


Lightning-Flash.

by Hedgi



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BUT ALSO SOMETIMES, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Friendship, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Kidnapping, Multi, Not Happy, Permanent Injury, Rescue Missions, Team as Family, all aboard the pain train, it depends, some happy but really mostly not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 77
Words: 60,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedgi/pseuds/Hedgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of ~200-2000 word minifics from tumblr prompts (characters+ one line of dialog). Mostly platonic, mostly angsty and sad.<br/>Most recent:<br/>"Like a White Door" : Cisco, Vandal Savage, " ever wonder if the world might have been better off without you?"<br/>Major character death, Depictions of violence, Torture<br/>Untitled: Wally, Eiling, "Don't freaking touch me" (companion to minifics 4, 12, 17, Eiling captures Wally)<br/>Warning: Cisco, Laurel, "I thought I lost you" Cisco vibes Laurel's murder before it happens</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris and Barry, "Please come and get me"  
> Alt end of the 2x03 opening  
> Character death.

Barry picked up the phone before it finished the first ring. Another handy aspect of his speed, and a habit he was trying to break for answering calls from anyone but his team.

He didn’t even manage to say hello before Iris’s voice crackled over the line, hardly a whisper.  
  
“Please come and get me,” she said, her voice low and dry, and Barry knew from how steady it was, how calm, that it wasn’t just ‘bad.’ That was her” end of the world as we know it” voice. Iris didn’t scare easily, now more than ever.  
  
“Where are you?” he asked even as he started running, not caring if the cellphone company noticed the anomalies in the GPS.  
  
“I’m at Baldwin tower, I—there was a story, but I can’t find a way out.”  
  
“I’m coming,” Barry skidded as he turned, trying to calculate. His shoes were destroyed but it didn’t matter, not if Iris needed him. “Hold on, I’m coming.”

“Ok,” she whispered, though her voice echoed. The apartment complex was just ahead of him, a plan forming in his mind, but as he opened his mouth to tell her, he heard a sound like fireworks through the phone, impossibly loud, and saw sparks of light on the sixteenth floor.  
  
“Iris, were those gunshots?” He knew the answer. He worked with the police, and fought crime by night, he knew the answer.  
But she never gave it.  
  



	2. Helping Hand pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Caitlin for “Look at me - just breathe, okay?”  
> Permanent injury.  
> prequel to this to be posted.

Caitlin froze for a heartbeat when Barry’s voice crackled over the intercom, “I’ve got him, it could be worse, but it’s bad.”  
  
He was right, Caitlin reflected as she raced around their somewhat limited infirmary—why didn’t they have painkillers and sedatives? Even if they were useless on Barry, she never should have let their stores become depleted—it could have been worse. If Barry hadn’t been faster, Cisco might not have—she cut off the thought, unwilling to consider that possibility.  
She had lost too much to lose Cisco now, even if it was only in a horrible what if.  
  
He lay on Barry’s usual medical birth, his eyes overbright and unfocused with pain, and she drew closer clutching at the general anesthetic that represented the last of their supply.  
  
“Barry, go, I need you to get pain meds, strong ones,” that was her doctor voice, but shaking. Dammit, she had to be calm, but how, in the face of this?—“steal them if you have to, we’ll pay for it later, just go, now.”  
  
Barry hesitated only a moment, looking at Cisco’s mangled and bloody arm before vanishing in a blur. Caitlin tied the tourniquet, and he flinched.  
  
“Cisco,” Caitlin put a cool hand on his forehead, but she was trembling now, trying to look only at his face. “Look at me. Just breathe, okay? It’s going to be fine. Barry’s getting something for the pain, and—and you’re going to be ok.” She knew she was a shitty liar.  
  
Barry returned in a whirl of light and wind, an IV bag in hand, and Caitlin steadied herself as she hung it on the pole and slid the needle into Cisco’s good arm.  
“Just look at me, just keep looking at me, ok?”  
His head jerked slightly in what she hoped was a nod, but his eyes drifted toward where his hand had been.  



	3. So small and Significant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westhallen Ot3, “Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you… ?”  
> AU tag to Eddie's rescue from the Pipeline.  
> No death, no injury.

Eddie twisted the empty plastic bottle in his hands, and Iris tried not to look at the marks on his wrists where he’d been bound. Barry’d raced away, and returned minutes later with a soft blanket that Eddie recognized as it was draped over his shoulders. His grandmother had made it, but it was back in his parent’s attic, miles away—right. Doctor We—the Man in Yel—Eobard Thawne had said Barry could run faster than the speed of sound and phase through things. He smiled gratefully, but it flickered.  
  
Caitlin Snow fussed at him as Iris and Barry each stayed close, offering comforting hands on his knee or shoulder, murmured apologies. Eddie heard, in truth, very little of it, his mind still dizzy from lack of calories and from all his great-grandson, give or take a few generations, had told him. It was too much to wrap his head around, but the words echoed and swum.  
  
There hadn’t been much to do but think, in the dark little room. And he was a detective. He could piece things together. Eobard had killed Barry’s mother, had killed Iris’s mentor and threatened to kill her. Eobard had tried to kill Barry.  
Eobard was his descendant.  
  
“Do you—“ his voice creaked, and Iris and Barry both leant in closer, Iris pressing a mug of something—chicken broth by the smell—into his hand. “Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you… ?”  
  
There was a moment of stillness, and then Barry and Iris began half shouting over each other.  
  
“Eddie I love you and that is the single dumbest thing I have ever heard you say—“  
“This is because of what he told you? He’s a LIAR, Eddie, you can’t trust anything he said—“  
“--And you once said that the spaceship in Star wars was the Santa Maria so trust me you’ve said dumb things but that is by far—“  
“--You saved my ass from Snart in January, and—that mugger! And all those arrests, how can you ever think—“  
“—the dumbest, Eddie, for God’s sake, if you’re even considering—“  
“—That the world isn’t, that we aren’t better off--We love you, so the answer is No—“  
“--of course not. Might as well ask if the world would be better off without chocolate, or—“  
“—or puppies, or something. I need you.”  
“--We need you.”  
They finished, and Eddie blinked, slowly, processing, the mug warming his hands.  
“You mean that?”  
“Yes,” they said together, without a moment of hesitation or a flicker of doubt.  
“Eddie, you matter,” Iris promised him, taking his free hand. Barry put his on top.  
“You matter,” he echoed. “Say it.”  
“I matter.”  
It was the first time in 26 years Eddie believed it.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Iris, re: Wally "It's okay to cry..."   
> No warnings?  
> set after Wally's had his recreated accident and Gained powers

“I’m his big sister! I’m supposed to—to do big sister stuff, like give him advice about girls, and punch bullies in the face, and tease him about going on dates and get him lame Christmas presents.” Iris sniffed, and Barry pulled her into a tighter hug, wordless. “I’m supposed to look out for him. But I didn’t even think—God, after he got his powers, I thought—I just. He didn’t need me. I wasn’t there, all his life, I was never there. I should have been there. I should have warned him. I know, I have to be strong, but I—I can’t. Barry, he’s my baby brother, and I can’t.”  
  
“It’s ok to cry, Iris.” Barry said, swallowing hard. “But—it’s going to be ok. “  
  
“I just feel so helpless, and it’s all my fault.” Iris whispered.

“None of us realized—with Zoom gone, and the deals I had with the rogues to protect my family—I’m the one who should have realized that his knowing how to recreate my accident would make him a target. It’s not your fault.”  
  
“It’s not yours,” Iris countered, shaking. “I’m the one who insisted on—on telling him everything, if I hadn’t been so stupid—or if I’d gone with him to the stupid library…And now he’s…oh, God, Barry, what if he’s dead?”  
  
“Cisco’s working with Felicity right now, they’re going to find Eiling, we’re going to save Wally. We have to believe he’s alive.”

Iris nodded against his shoulder, stifling another sob. “He must be so scared.”  
  
Barry’s phone buzzed, and Iris drew back, scrubbing at her face. “What is it?” she asked.  
  
“Possible locations, they aren’t sure. Iris, I promise you, on my life. We’ll bring him home.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow ups to this to be posted


	5. From the Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Cisco, " Please come and get me"  
> Character death  
> visions of episode 15 aftermath.

Cisco hadn’t meant for it to happen, he’d been tidying up his little workspace and Caitlin had left her phone. Without thinking, he picked it up, still worrying the issue of what Professor Stein had said to him like a loose tooth.  
  
And then the vision struck, the world blurred and too bright in places, like lenseflare in a not terribly well made reboot of a classic nerd movie. STAR Labs, but—old STAR Labs, before the singularity. Why was he seeing that, lately it had only been visions from, well, from the same day, maybe off by an hour. He moved as though walking through syrup and heavy fog, his feet not quite wanting to move, and then he saw the doors open. Caitlin, panic stricken, on her phone, but she didn’t see him.  
“Barry, I need to talk to you. Doctor Wells, he isn’t,” she started but buzzing from the other phone—garbled but still clear, Barry’s own panic about a tidal wave. Caitlin offered some vain hope to stop it, and still clutching the phone started hurrying through the halls, some unseen force of the vision dragging Cisco along as well.  
  
Two things blazed red-gold against this blue tinged world in Cisco’s mind. The first was that never had the visions gone on so long, usually it was only for a moment and then a headache, blinking as it all dissipated.  
The second was that with a feeling like lead in his gut, he knew what day this was. He had never considered what had happened after he had crumbled to the floor in front of Eobard, dead.  
  
Caitlin was at the elevator, and he reached out as if to stop her, but couldn’t. She didn’t see the him standing there, his body wracking with tiny tremors of pain, just the world as it was—the world as it had been. Her fingers were tight against the phone, gripping it so tightly her knuckles where dead white.  
He didn’t want to follow, he wanted to stop, he wanted to close his eyes and open them again in his basement lab, pretend everything was fine, as if he never felt phantom fingers touching his bones and heart and crushing tight.  
  
But the vision—the vibe—wouldn’t let go. He closed his eyes against a particularly bright flash of blue light and when he opened them again, he swayed with disorientation and nausea.  
There was no blood that he could see. But Caitlin was on the ground, her legs splayed out as if they’d forgotten how to be legs and hold her up, beside his own body, begging him to get up, to be ok, before collapsing into sobs.  
  
She still held her phone, dialing and listening to it ring, and ring, and ring, as a man in black stepped out of the shadows.  
“Barry, oh god, pick up, pick up, please come get me, please—“  
The phone was ripped from her hand, and Cisco tried to take a step forward, tried to stop Eobard Thawne, tried to end the vision, anything he could do to stop this from happening.  
But just as he—that him, the one lying there—had known there was no way out for him, he knew there was no way out here either.  
For a moment, the space of a half breath and heartbeat, he thought that maybe Caitlin’s eyes met his, before Thawne removed his hand and she slumped to the ground.  
  
The blue of the world dimmed to black.  
  



	6. Helping Hand pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Cisco, "Shit, are you bleeding?"  
> Prequel bit to chapter 2  
> Permanent Injury

When Barry had heard that Cisco had been snatched off the streets, he’d assumed it was one of his enemies. He had plenty of them, and Cisco was—well, Cisco. Cisco had rivalries, sure, but even Hartley Rathaway hadn’t targeted him specifically.  
  
But then the security footage Felicity had dug up (even from miles and miles away she was a goddess of tech) had revealed a couple of partial shots, parts of faces, half a license plate. Enough to get a match.  
  
“Vincenzo Santini.” Felicity said into the comm as Barry ran through the streets. In the four hours, they could have gotten Cisco halfway across the state. “He took over as head of the Santini crime family after his cousins were murdered.”  
“But why would they go after Cisco?” Barry asked, following the route the van had supposedly taken. The Crime Family didn’t limit itself to just Central City.  
“That’s the bad news. Barry, Snart killed the second to last head last March.”  
“Last March?” it took a moment for the shock to stop Barry, inertia and momentum pulling him along. His chest felt cold. “Last march, as in right before--?”  
“Right before your Rogues attacked one of their casinos and killed the newly appointed head, with--“  
“The gold gun. That they forced Cisco to—oh, God, Felicity, tell me you have a location.”  
  
Barry ran for all he was worth, his soles sparking against the pavement, not even noticing the shattering glass from storefront and car windows caused by his carelessness. This was his fault. He’d failed to save Cisco from Snart and his crew, he couldn’t fail him again. He had to hope he got there in time.  
  
The compound was probably well guarded. Barry bypassed it all, knocking heads into walls with more force than anyone calling themselves a Hero probably should. It didn’t matter to Barry, all that mattered was the locked door ahead and the fact that someone inside was screaming.  
  
The fight was a blur, and not just from speed. Barry wasn’t sure when Vincenzo Santini’s nose broke, or the mobster’s ribs, but it was over in seconds. Santini’s gang all lay like ragdolls, and Barry knelt at Cisco’s side. The younger man was tucked in as much of a ball as he could manage.  
  
“Cisco, oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so—shit, are you bleeding?” Barry had hoped the blood was from the various broken noses and the places were shattered glass had gotten caught in small tears in the suit—something he’d been sure Cisco would kill him for later.  
He put an arm under Cisco’s knees, lifting him too easily, preparing to run when he saw what Cisco, still whimpering, had been curled around. His left arm ended at the wrist.  
  
Barry felt bile in his throat but there was no time to throw up so he just ran, his heartrate rocketing, shouting to Felicity and Caitlin over the comms.  
“Cisco, I’ve got you, you’re safe, it’s gonna be ok, I’ve got you,” running and speaking as fast as he was, he wasn’t sure Cisco could even hear him. “Just hang on.”  
He hadn’t been fast enough.  
  



	7. Welcome Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Joe, "Don't you listen to them, don't you EVER listen to them."  
> post episode ten, post deleted scene from episode ten  
> hurt/comfort

“Cisco, what on God’s green earth are you still doing here? “Joe sighed. Cisco had been adamant about helping spruce up more than just the riot shields around the police department, especially with Snart and Rory in the wind after someone had stopped their prison transport. Not only were the shields now vaguely fireproof as well as protected from cold, but Cisco had drawn up plans for better shields all together, riot gear that wasn’t as bulky and twice as protective, better body cams to protect both cops and civilians, and he’d fixed the bullpen’s coffee machine. That in and of itself was a miracle, the thing had been so broken for so long most of the newer recruits hadn’t even known it existed.

Still, it was nearing 11:30, and the kid had been at the tiny desk he’d put together in a corner of the main room since roughly noon.

“I know you wanna help the department, kid, but have you slept more than an hour and a half in the last week?” Joe demanded, eyeing the appalling number of energy drink cans in the recycling bin.  
  
“I just wanted to get this done, sorry, I can—I can leave, I know I’m not exactly welcome.” Cisco started shoving papers into his bag, not meeting Joe’s eyes.  
  
“And what’s that supposed to mean? Not welcome? I only meant you need to get some sleep while you can.” Joe frowned. “Is someone giving you a hard time?”  
  
Cisco only shrugged.  
  
“That’s not an answer. Who do I need to have words with? Is it Officer Tompson? I told him if he did keep his mouth shut—“  
  
“No, it’s not, it’s—it’s really nothing.”  
  
“You realize I’m a detective? Don’t lie to me.” Joe rubbed his temple. “It’s too late for bullshit, I don’t have the energy.”  
  
“Really, it’s—it’s not…” Cisco crumpled. Very quietly, he asked, “Joe, you know I—I didn’t ever mean for anything I built to—to be used like that, right? To hurt innocent people? And that the accelerator, that I didn’t—“  
  
Joe’s face went stormy. “Of course I know that. You’re a good kid. Yeah, maybe I did a background check when Dr. Wells asked to transfer Barry, but—after all the crazy shit in the last four, five months? Of course I know that. Anyone who knows you knows that. It’s officer Thompson, isn’t it? I’m gonna kck his—“  
  
“It’s not anyone here. They don’t—talk to me much.” Cisco’s face twitched, a fleeting grimace of a smile.  
  
“Then who—“Joe seemed to realize, and his eyes went hard as stone.  
  
“It was a joke, I think, they meant it was a joke. About, how long I’d go. Before building another gun, or a, I dunno, weapon. I was right there, Caitlin, Barry, Eddie, they’d all nearly died, because of what I built, and I promised that I’d never, and—“ Cisco wrapped an arm around  himself picking at the edge of the rest of the papers. “None of them gave it even a week. I know they didn’t mean it like—“  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Joe cut him off firmly. “That was uncalled for. When was this, the night of Snart’s attack?” Cisco nodded, and Joe muttered a curse under his breath. “They say anything like that again, any of them, don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them. You’re as much a hero, as much a genius, as any of them, and making jokes like that—I thought I raised Barry better.”  
  
Cisco opened his mouth to protest, but Joe shook his head. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know that? Those weapons aren’t you. The explosion wasn’t you. You are the shields that saved a lot of cops’s lives. You’re that suit that keeps my son alive. You’re that damn coffee machine that finally works. Remember that. Go home. Sleep in tomorrow. And tell me if anyone, friend or no, gives you a hard time again.”  



	8. Ok to be Not Ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Barry, "Shh, c'mere."  
> set after 2x04  
> no warnings  
> hurt/comfort

The cortex felt empty without Professor Stein and Jax—mostly the Professor, since they’d only known the younger man for a few hours, but still. A kind of solemnness had spread like a blanket of fog. Clarissa’s night bag and armchair had been taken back to her house, with no one to watch over at night, and Caitlin knew she should be glad for that. Clarissa wasn’t exactly young, all the worry and strain and falling asleep bent in the chair hadn’t been good for her.  
  
But she missed the woman’s company, someone who was able to understand, somewhat. Caitlin sat at the computer, her finger hovering. She had to update the records, that was her job, that was what she did.  
but even after six months, just like before, the sorrow crashed over her like a wave. She tried to hide it with numbness, with emptiness, but looking at the still photograph on the screen that would never breathe again, or blink, or run a hand through her hair, she understood wanting sackcloth and ashes and wailing.  
  
Her throat grew tight. It wasn’t fair, losing him twice, so soon after. But it wasn’t fair that Barry had lost his mother, that Cisco’s family still didn’t really appreciate him, that Clarissa knew her husband was alive and in danger and could only contact him through coded classifieds adds, that Iris had lost Eddie to the same pipeline that had taken Ronnie the first time. Heroes. They were heroes, and once again she was left behind.  
  
There was a flicker in the corner of her eye, and then a hand on her shoulder. She turned. “Hi, Barry.” She forced a smile. “What is it, is there something—“  
“Are you ok?” he asked. “I mean, I—You’ve just seemed off, and I know it’s only been—I’m so sorry about—but are you ok?”

He seemed so earnest, his words tripping over themselves in concern, and Caitlin had already made up her mind to spit out the lie she’d been saying for weeks and weeks when the truth spilled out.  
“No. No, I’m not.” Caitlin knew she was not a pretty crier, but didn’t care. A tear came, and another as she fished a chain from around her neck, a gleaming polished washer around it. “I miss him so much. I can’t even tell anyone, because no one knew he was even alive, that we got married, they think it’s been two years and I should be over it, or healing, but I—I can’t. I’m not.” She wept in earnest, every tear she’d held back and in to shed in privacy, the floodgates shattered like so much glass and rubble.  
“Shh, C’mere.” Barry pulled her into a hug.  
“Some days, I’m—I’m fine,” she whispered. “Happy, even. And then, there are days when everything just feels wrong. Like the ground’s been ripped out from under me. Everything reminds me. The daffodils in the flower shop across from my apartment. Jitters. Even being here. Sometimes, I dream, that—everything was ok, and I don’t realize until halfway through, all the little things I thought when we got married. But he’s never going to knock on the door, or walk around the corner with coffee, or…It’s so stupid, I know, I should be—be over—but I…”  
Barry led the hug for a moment longer. ““It’s ok to not be ok, Caitlin.”  



	9. Making things right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Henry, "It was supposed to be me"  
> set mid 1x23

“Barry, don’t. I know I haven’t been able to be there for you, but—If you change the past—you’ve become such an amazing young man, and I don’t want you to lose that. You have a family, you have—you helped save so many lives. And your mother would be so proud of you. Don’t thow that away.”

  
“Dad,” Barry closed his eyes, the phone heavier than it had felt since he was eleven. “I can’t just not try. It’s Mom, I—I can’t let it happen, let you get blamed, let her die.”

“Barry, you didn’t let anything—“

  
“Yes, I did.” Barry opened his eyes, his father’s face swimming in his blurred vision. “Dad, I know what happened that night. You’ve always said, you just said, things happen for a reason. But I know what happened. I’ve seen things, I’ve spoken to Him, the man in yellow, I know what happened that night in the living room. I’m the reason Mom’s gone.”

  
Henry Allen frowned, reaching forward with instinct that fifteen years behind glass and steel had not quelled. “Barry, you can’t believe that.”

  
“It’s true,” the words tore from Barry throat in a choked sob. “She wasn’t supposed to die. It was supposed to be me. He wanted to kill me, and he couldn’t, so he…Dad, it wasn’t fate or God or “her time." It was because of me, because he couldn’t kill me. And I have a chance to make it right. I can change it, I can fix it, and I know, I’ll still be Barry. I’ll still be me. I’ll just have you, and—and mom. Please, I need you to understand why I have to do this.”

  
“Barry—,“ Henry swallowed the lump in his throat like a stone that lodged in his chest. “Barry, listen to me.”

  
But Barry shook his head. “I’m going to make things right.”

  
He hung up the phone.  
  
  



	10. Rogues' Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Barry, "I thought you weren't coming."  
> AU of 1x22  
> Emotional hurt comfort

The warning bells and alarms in Cisco’s head had started going off about a half second after it was decided that Lisa Snart would be driving the truck, and that since it was his tech, he had to be in the cab as well, and that everyone else was needed for backup. Not that there was a lot of “everyone else,” just Barry, Caitlin, and Joe, but still.  
  
The screeching cacophony of “ What are you, a white guy in a horror film? This is a bad plan” that scrambled around in his brain only intensified when Lisa veered off course, leaving the route entirely. He lurched to the side, hand groping for the door handle despite the speed of the vehicle, but the pressure of a very familiar gun at his ribs stopped him. He swallowed.  
  
“They’ll follow you,” he managed against his dry throat. Lisa smirked without taking her eyes from the road.

“Mmm, not right away they won’t. Lenny’s taking care of that, and anyway, Flash’s already shown a soft spot. He wouldn’t risk my finger slipping on this trigger.” Lisa pulled to a stop, but any hope of a risky disarm and bolting was crushed as the door was yanked open and Mick Rory hefted himself inside, blocking the way and smelling of smoke.  
  
~~  
  
It had been Snart’s idea all along, Cisco gathered, free the other metas to add to his little gang. Mardon and Nimbus had wanted to kill him outright, knowing his face from their time in the pipeline, but Snart had insisted he was more valuable to them alive, which wasn’t nearly as much a comfort as it should have been. Words like “leverage” and “insurance” and “hostage” and “bait” had been tossed around as he’d been locked in the back of the truck, his hands tied behind him through some of the heavy netting.  
  
It was a trap for Barry, he knew it had to be. They’d use his own power dampening system to trap Barry, too. Like the cold gun. Cisco trembled, the April night air even colder inside the truck. It wouldn’t work, though. He took some tiny amount of comfort in that. Barry had Eobard Thawne to worry about, and keeping his promise to find Eddie, and the pipeline maybe exploding again. That was all more important, Cisco knew. Thawne had to be stopped, he didn’t really matter, not against all that.  
  
And anyway, Barry hadn’t exactly made a move to help him when he’d thought he was going to die and Everyman-as-Wells still hadn’t confessed. He got that, he really did. Family came first and all.  
His family. Cisco hoped that when Snart realized the Flash wasn’t coming for him, they’d leave Dante alone. If it was only his life at risk, he could refuse to do what they wanted. He hoped.  
  
He pulled his knees in tighter, telling himself he was glad for the privacy, glad to be alone, because he couldn’t bear it if any of his friends got hurt because of him, and he didn’t want to share this prison with any of the creepy-murdery-awful people lurking who-knew-where in the warehouse/secret hideout thing. But it hurt, too. Maybe, Barry and everyone would stop Wells-Eobard soon, and come for him, but part of him wondered, a little, if they would. If they could. Joe, maybe, like how he and Joe had found Caitlin.  
  
Barry hadn’t come. Not in the other timeline, when he’d died, alone on a dirty cement floor. Not when he and Dante had been held hostage. Yeah, when he’d been stung by that bee, but—Cisco’s head hurt. What if he didn’t come, this time?  
What if he did?  
He’d have to know it was a trap, he was too smart to walk into a trap, not for Cisco’s sake.  
Cisco wished some of the netting was loose, not just pinned up to the walls. It’d have made a better blanket than nothing.  
  
There was shouting outside. Bivolo, Cisco guessed, riling people up, and he heard the tell-tale whine of the gold gun, and the cold gun as well. He hoped, a little viciously and bitterly, that they’d hit each other.  
  
The door at the far side of the truck rattled, and Cisco tensed, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d still take the Snarts over Mardon or Nimbus or Rory.  
_Please don’t be any of the people who voted to kill me, please don’t be them, please don’t be—_

“Cisco?” the voice had the edges of hysteria still evident. “Are you ok?”  
Cisco opened his eyes. Barry was at his side in seconds, rather than a single blink, clawing at the knots with his gloved hands for a moment before reaching up and unhooking the whole tangled mess of netting and hoisting Cisco to his feet. “Let’s get out of here, the cops are on their way and I managed to knock most of them out. Shawna’s gone, so’s Nimbus, and the Snarts escaped, but—Cisco? You with me?”  
“I thought you weren’t coming,” Cisco said softly.  
Barry helped him down from the truck, then undid the knots in seconds, his speed restored.  
“Of course I came.” Barry seemed genuinely hurt by the statement, but he shook his head.  
“What about Wells—Thawne—isn’t—.”  
“I couldn’t just leave you with them, Cisco. I did that before, and I promised, never again. C’mon.”  
Cisco nodded, a bit numb, as Barry lifted his feet clear of the ground, and started running towards STAR labs.


	11. Lully Lullay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Nora Allen, "Shhh, C'mere."  
> Character death  
> circa send of season two.

Fighting Zoom is not like fighting Eobard Thawne. There’s no pausing to taunt, no goading, no comments about his failings, just speed, and vibration filled silence, and sparking lightning, and pain.  
  
Barry can’t breathe, he can’t breathe or feel his hands or his legs but he keeps running, tossing lightning that surges sun-gold between his fingers, the gloves on his hands frayed.  
  
There’s one similarity, though, beyond the ragged panting for breath, as they run too far, too fast, circling each other again and again and striking. Barry can’t lose.  
He can’t, because if he does it’s over for everyone, and that he cannot accept.  
The reverse flash took his mother, almost took his entire family. He won’t let it happen.  
Not again.  
  
There’s no Eddie to shoot himself, sending shockwaves through the enemy speedster, not this time, but the Speedforce pulses in his veins like flame, pounding with the desperation to stop the creature in black with the horrible mask. Each pulse is a name to protect, to save, _Joe, Iris, Cisco, Caitlin, Dad, Wally, Patty, Jay_ and a name that’s fallen, candle burned out like a wisp of smoke above a lightning struck tree: _Linda, Wells, Dr. McGee, Clarissa, Stein, Jax, Rothstein, Slick, Larkin—_ and then those names turned into others that had not died by Zoom’s actions, but still because of the Flash— _Bette, Farooq and his friends, Ronnie, Eddie, Mason Bridge, Tess Morgan, Mom. Mom, Mom, Mom._  
  
Zoom was fast, faster than Barry, that much was clear. Zoom was faster and older and stronger, but Barry was desperate. He couldn’t fail them all, not now. Zoom stood over him, a boot planted over one arm, pressing down, but Barry fought lashing out with his free hand and a sudden surge.  
“You won’t win,” he ground out. Perhaps it was cliché, _you won’t win, you fight for your own glory and power, I fight for my family_ , but Barry meant it with every scrap of breath the sentence took, every half-healed fiber of his bones. He twisted free, knocking Zoom off balance, and got to his feet again.  
“Oh, this has been _fun,_ ” the hideous voice vibrated through the air, ringing and echoing, jarring, inhuman.  
  
Barry took a moment to still, ignoring the shooting pain in his arm, the blood running down his left leg and the spot where a bolt of blue lightning had just caught the side of his ribs, the suit singed. None of that mattered now.  
  
He lunged with every ounce of speed he had, seizing at the black mask and tearing. Adrenalin spiked through him, a moment of triumph as Zoom ran, not towards but away.  
No. Not away, Barry realized. Back. Back towards STAR labs, where Cisco and Caitlin and the others were holed up.  
Barry charged, slamming into Zoom with the first and best weapon he had, his own body. Dimly, he could see they were in a parking lot, now, nearly empty of cars. Just Caitlin’s tiny fiat, Joe’s big silvery--

  
STAR. They were at STAR. He couldn’t let Zoom get inside, and Zoom knew it. He swung a punch, bloodloss and calorie expenditures making him slower and dizzier but no less determined. Punch, block, kick, block, strike, block.  
Zoom was too much. Too fast.  
  
Barry fought anyway, names ringing in his ears above even the constant, pulsing, _wrong_ vibrations coming from Zoom’s Suit.  
He could hear Cisco’s voice, something must have jarred free, the signal in his earpiece back, or perhaps he was moving slow enough to hear it.  
His family cheered him on as He forced Zoom out of the shadowed spot, the floodlights turning the black suit grey, dimming the red of Barry’s own suit and blood.  
Barry froze, his legs not quite giving out from under him.  
Zoom smiled. Long hair, a darker red than Barry remembered, spilled from where the cowl had fallen back with the destruction of the mask.  
  
“M-mom?”  
  
Another smile, understanding, inviting. Dimly Barry could hear his friends shouting for him to fight, but instead he reached forward, bleeding fingertips trembling.  
“Shhh, c’mere,” the voice’s vibrations eased slightly, his mother’s voice, gentle, like the easing of a nightmare, the setting of the sun. Barry stepped forward.  
Blue lightning ripped through him, draining speed, energy, every last one of the names from his pulse until it stopped, everything dim and quiet and fading out.  
  
No more voices. No more lighting. No more pain.  
  
Nora Allen of Earth Two turned towards STAR Labs, and walked inside.  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Wally, "Please be Ok."  
> Follow up to section four's minific

Barry’s supersonic punch had been enough to break through the steel of Tony Woodward’s jaw. While he hadn’t managed quite that much speed, the punch he’d mustered had been enough to knock General Eiling to the floor with what had to be a brain damage level concussion. The war hero didn’t stir as Barry shivered, taking in the surroundings.  
  
A small room, dingy white in the fluorescent lighting, at the heart of underground bunker of a Facility that was more maze than hallway. Wally lay against a half-inclined chair-table, his shirt gone and his eyes closed. His dark skin was marked by darker bruises, dried blood, and what looked like the burn marks from a cattle prod.  
  
“Please be ok,” Barry breathed, fumbling at the restraints. Eiling hadn’t bothered with fancy cuffs, electronic or analog. Instead, he’d appeared to opt for what felt like yards of razor sharp and thin wire. “ Wally, hey, wake up.” the chill in the room seeped through Barry’s suit, hampering his speed and numbing his fingers, but he got the last of the wire away from the nineteen year old’s wrists and started on his ankles.  
  
“B—Fl’sh?” Wally croaked, one eye creaking open. The other was swollen shut, a trickle of blood edging the bruise. Barry felt sick.  
“I’m right here, I’m getting you out of this.” Barry promised, careful not to pull too hard on the wire and risk cutting up Wally’s raw ankles anymore than his own struggles had. They’d need Caitlin, and fast.  
“I—I d’dn’t tell ‘em. D’dn’ say noth’n.” Wally insisted, his voice hoarse.  
  
Barry nodded, aware that Wally was waiting for a response, but what he wanted to do was run Eiling to the middle of the Ocean and let go. “You did good, Wally. Just hang on.” One arm went under the boy’s knees, the other inched under his shoulders until he could lift him. Wally’s head lolled for a moment, resting against Barry’s chest. He felt noticeably lighter than the last time Barry’d picked up Wally to run him back to STAR after he’d broken an ankle in a fight, and that had only been a week ago.

Again, Barry wished for a moment that he could set aside morality and kick the general where he lay. He’d tortured a child, thought he could get away with it for questionable science and money.  
Iris would fix that, though. Barry knew, grimly, that Iris would make sure the entire world and possibly a few additional earths all knew what had happened. Holding Wally’s body a little closer, feeling the kid’s shivers through his suit, he prepared to run.  
  
“Wai’. Can’t leave,” Wally coughed around his dry throat. Eiling had given him no water. “There’s som’ne else. Heard him—them hurting ‘im. When they bro’gh’ me in.”   
  
Barry adjusted his grip, and nodded. “Let me get you to Caitlin first. I won’t leave anyone here.”  
  
“G'd. cuz, you’re hero.” Wally shivered violently, and Barry took off, racing the twenty miles to where Caitlin and Iris, refusing to be left behind, had parked an unmarked Van full of medical supplies.  
  
“Oh, thank God,” Iris whispered as Barry passed Wally to her through the doors. “Let’s get out of here.”

“There’s someone else, I’ll be right back,” Barry told them. “If I’m not back in five minutes, get out, I mean it.” He didn’t wait for the protest he knew would come, just ran back through the polished white maze.

There, a locked door—not a cell, a lab. Barry didn’t like the look of the tools laid out in sterilized wrappers or the restrains on the gurney that looked like they were made of barbed wire. The next locked door was a computer room, and Barry ditched a thumbdrive of Felicity’s that would let her hack in remotely at the back of one of the computers. Iris would need the evidence for her exposes.  
  
Another locked door, Barry wrenched it open, dimly aware that the alarm sirens had started ringing at some point. The room was stark, almost totally empty, just grey cement walls, floor, and ceiling. A figure was huddled in one corner, the glint of a chain connecting his ankle to the wall.  
  
Barry froze as the man looked up at him. His hair was longer and more disheveled than Barry remembered, matted and dirty. His eyes were wild and scared until they recognized the suit.  Barry lurched forward, half stumbling. ”Ronnie?”  
  



	13. No Man can Cheat the Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Barry, "go ahead and shoot, I don't care."  
> 1x23 AU  
> Major character death.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Cisco scrambled to his feet as Joe did the same, instinctively pressing back against the pipeline wall as far from the blur of red and yellow lightning as he could.  In the flickering light, bright now, darker now as Barry and Thawne flew at each other, he could see the shattered remains of the Time sphere, bits of glass and tungsten plates sealed with cobalt, all that work destroyed.  
  
He was glad, in a way. Eobard wouldn’t get away with what he’d done, what he’d tried to do, not in any timeline. But fear dried his throat and Cisco called himself ten kinds of coward for hiding in the shadows. Still, what else could he do but hide? He didn’t have powers, he didn’t have anything that could…  
  
There was one thing. He’d made it as a precaution, kept it with him, just in case, because he was the one who’d had a fist shoved through his chest, thanks-ever-so, he had the right to make something to defend himself. Or that’s what he told himself as he tinkered, and didn’t tell Barry. Cisco swiped hair from his face, and reached for his belt. The gun was gone.  He scanned the ground, ripping his eyes from the fight long enough to spot the familiar grip. He slid one foot forward, then dove.  
  
Barry was exhausted. Every muscle in his legs felt like cement full of broken glass, his lungs heaved but he couldn’t get enough air. Each impact of foot on wall or floor sent a jolt like lightning through him and all he wanted to do was stop. But in the flickering lightning he could still see his mother’s face, hear his own 11 year old voice, and he knew he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not until this was over.  
But God, he wanted it to be over.  
So many people were dead. How many more had died that he hadn’t even known about, people in the future that Eobard had killed, people here and now who had gotten in his way?  
So he ran, forcing his lungs to expand against the sudden tightness in his ribs, slamming Eobard against the walls before being flung back himself. He kicked out, hearing something in his knee click and knowing that knees were not supposed to do that. It was just one more aching pinprick, and it didn’t matter because the blow connected, sending Eobard sprawling, rolling—and then he was back on his feet again, and diving forward. Barry blinked, and then Eobard had him by the neck, his feet dangling uselessly, his energy spent.  
  
There was a terrible, familiar whine that he knew too well. Barry coughed against the hand at his throat, confused. _Snart?_  
But when Eobard turned, hauling Barry’s ragdoll body between him and the others in the pipeline like a shield, it was Cisco holding a miniaturized Cold gun. His hands shook, sweat and tears streaking his face.  
Eobard laughed. “Clever. Very clever. A backup plan. I might have guessed. I honestly thought you would be too afraid to make another weapon again, Cisco. After what happened last time…”  
Cisco’s mouth trembled, but he held the gun steady. There was no clean shot, he needed a clean shot, if he hit Barry, too—

“Well, aren’t you going to shoot me? Hmm? Go on, Cisco.” Eobard laughed again, and Cisco tightened his grip. “Pathetic.”  
  
“Cisco,” Barry’s voice was hardly a hiss. “Just do it.”  
  
“I can’t—“ Cisco started, _I can’t shoot you with this I promised I’d never make another weapon but I did and you’ll never trust me again but it might not matter you’ll be dead too oh god oh god oh god_

“Go ahead and shoot, I don’t care, please,” Barry tried to slam an elbow back but struck the wall instead. He wasn’t strong enough, he wasn’t fast enough, and he was so tired of not being enough. He twisted in Eobard’s grip, desperately hooking an arm and leg back to try to hold him, too. “Cisco, Please.”  
  
Cisco’s hands were numb as he pulled the trigger.


	14. The Odds mean Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Caitlin, "I'd have done it."  
> set after 2x05  
> comfort

“Cisco, wait.” Caitlin caught his arm, and Cisco flinched, but let her hold on, pull him back. He was glad that her touch hadn’t triggered some awful vision of—god knows what, the earth two version of her where she’s dead, or evil, or dead and evil, or—happy with Ronnie in the life she should have had, would have had, if he had waited ten more seconds.  
  
She stared at him, searching his face as she let go. He looked down, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a shrug. “What?” He didn’t mean to come off as sullen, but—well, he kind of did. It wasn’t Caitlin’s fault, he knew that. Still, Light was locked up and he wanted to go home, where he was still just Cisco. Maybe that was one upside to living at home again until he could find a new apartment, that aside from a hint of respect in Dante’s eyes on occasion he was still just plain old disappointing Cisco.  
  
“Are you—ok?” Caitlin asked, and winced. “Sorry, stupid question.”

Cisco shrugged again. “No? I mean, I—we’re working with a man who’s got the same face that I still see in dreams at night, murdering me.” Cisco was sick of keeping things tamped down, flour in a jar ready to explode. “And I know that it’s not _him_ but—I can’t stop seeing---”

“Your powers,” Caitlin said softly, looking around. The hallway was empty, but so was one of the old offices, and that had chairs. Cisco ignored the chair, sinking to the floor instead, and Caitlin followed suit. “That’s what the dreams were?”

Cisco nodded miserably, and Caitlin put a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch away. After a moment he cleared his throat with a quasi-laugh that sounded more like a dry sob. “Wells-- Thawne. He said he gave me this. That I had a ‘great and honorable destiny,’” Cisco made a half-hearted attempt at air quotes.

“Cisco, you’re not like him. And whatever powers you have, that doesn’t make you—“

“Evil? Insane? Caitlin, since this all started we’ve met, what, two dozen Metahumans? Do you need me to list for you the number that are still alive and haven’t tried to kill us, or destroy the city, or—Caitlin, you could count that number on a shop teacher’s hand. Barry, Jay-ish, Stein, and—and Jax.”

“And you,” Caitlin countered.

Cisco shrugged again.

“That’s why you didn’t say anything? That’s what you meant by being afraid? You think, what, you’re going to go to the dark side?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. And—you all had your own crap to deal with. Barry’s dad…Jay showing up…Zoom…Ronnie… I couldn’t just go, “ hey I know life sucks but guess what, I’m a metahuman and probably doomed to either a very short life or a crazy evil psycho’s life or both!” and I—I read, Caitlin. When I time traveler says you have a “ noble destiny” like he did? That’s not a good thing. I thought, maybe if I just ignored it, it would stop, but then it didn’t and... now you all know.” He blinked. “Shit. You all know. Barry’s never going to trust me again.”

“That’s bull.” Caitlin snapped. “He does trust you. He’d trust you with his life, and so would I. Barry’s making some stupid Life Choices concerning trust, I’ll give you that. But he does trust you. Now more than ever, I think.” Her voice softened. “I understand why you kept it quiet though. I wish you’d told us so you hadn’t had to be afraid on your own. You did this with—with Ronnie, too. Kept all the secrets bottled up, and I understand why. I’d have done it, too. But you have to know we are here for you. Ok?”

Cisco nodded, slowly. “Thanks, Caitlin. It means a lot, but…” he trailed off, chewing his lip.

Caitlin knocked his shoulder lightly. “Cisco, you forget that Barry got his powers from the accelerator too. And if you say that he already had them before Wells—Thawne—he needs a name to keep him straight—screwed with the timeline, then by his own admission, so did you.”

“I guess…”

“And if you go evil, I’ll make you watch “The Core” AND that live action Last Airbender movie, so there’s your incentive.”

Cisco smiled, more genuinely than he had in days, and let Caitlin tug him to his feet.


	15. Cold Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westhallen/ Eddie and Barry, "I'd have done it"  
> 1x23 AU  
> canon attempted suicide, hurt comfort

Never since the days following the explosion had STAR Labs seemed so frozen, silent and still even with people inside, all trying to find something to do, something to worry about. It wasn’t hard to find. Thawne had escaped, Ronnie and Professor Stein were searching, but with little luck. Caitlin had worked herself to exhaustion, bandaging the various cuts and lacerations Cisco and Joe had sustained when the time sphere had shattered, trying to get Barry to stay still so she could examine the arm that was “Not sprained Barry, that’s broken, it needs to heal, let me set it.”

Iris hadn’t moved from Eddie’s side, where he sat without moving, a blanket around his shoulders and a mug of tea gone cold. Neither spoke. They didn’t have too. She’d seen the gun, seen Barry see it and break free in time to stop him. She guessed Eobard had seen it, too, and chosen to run.

She was glad for that, that her family, by blood and choice, had all survived, but still Iris shivered, even though it was June, and warm. He’d be back. Iris knew it, Barry knew it, Eddie knew it. Maybe they’d never be free from the man in yellow. How would they stop him, now? Iris hadn’t been there but she felt certain they’d only been able to lock him up the first time because he’d wanted to be there.  
  
Barry walked over, eyes downcast, and Iris sighed. He looked so broken, Eddie mirroring him, neither looking at each other and shifting awkwardly, foot to foot, side to side. “I’ll get some Hot Chocolate,” she said softly. “Be right back.”  
With Iris gone, Barry slid into her spot, gingerly cradling his arm. “Eddie?” He asked.  
Eddie said nothing, as he had for the last hour, staring at his hands and the bruise forming where the gun had been ripped from his hands. He’d been so close to ending the nightmare, ending everyone’s nightmare. _Shouldn’t have hesitated,_ he thought. _Shouldn’t have hesitated, should have done something._

“Eddie,” Barry tried again, his voice strained. “Please say something.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were hardly audible, Barry had to lean closer to catch them, not noticing that Iris had re-entered the room.

“Sorry? For what?” he asked. “For almost killing yourself?!”

Eddie shrugged, shook his head. “For letting him get away. I should—I’d have done it. For your mom. For Iris, and Joe, and you and—he got away. Because I didn’t…He’ll come back for you, for all of you. You should have let me--”

Eddie closed his eyes, crying, and Barry felt his own eyes well up. He’d thought he’d cried too much for one day, that he was too numb and empty, but he had been wrong. Iris joined them, and the hot chocolate grew cold as well.


	16. Pay the Piper pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin, Cisco, Barry, " I know you can hear me" with bonus of Barry not being the one spoken to.  
> has a follow up to be posted.

First Linda, and kinda sorta Dr. We-- _Harry_ , and now Zoom had thrown another face from their past at them. Cisco was sick of it, but he was more sick to his stomach with dread, honestly, because yeah, he didn’t like Hartley Rathaway a whole lot but the guy hadn’t been as much of a dick since Evil!NotActually!Wells had been erased from time. Maybe it was knowing that he’d been right, maybe it was the therapy rat, but he’d been somewhat of a decent human being and now, this version of Pied Piper might have killed him.

“Probably not,” Caitlin had muttered under her breath when Barry had expressed the concern. “He’s clever. He might have left town.”

The truth was, they didn’t know what had happened to Piper Prime.  As soon as they’d gotten a location, Barry had raced off to prevent whatever catastrophe was threatening the city this week, and about four seconds later the com had gone down. Cisco’d been trying desperately to pull up the feed, Caitlin unable to rip her eyes from Barry’s vitals, which weren’t looking good, but weren’t as bad as the last time he’d fought a Pied Piper, at least, not yet.

Caitlin wished Jay was here with his knowledge of this other Hartley. She wished Firestorm, _her_ Firestorm, was here to help. She almost wished that Harry were around, though he had been more or less banned from Cisco’s presence after shoving Dr. Light’s helmet at his heart, and she’d been banned from his after sucker punching him in the face for it. (She would maintain until the end of time itself that he’d deserved worse than she’d given.)

“Cisco, is there any way you can find…?” She asked, voice starting to edge on hysteria. Cisco shook. He didn’t shake his head, he shook, his whole body wracking.

“I tried. I tried, I—it doesn’t work like—I tried,” he looked close to tears, more scared than she’d seen him since the Trap for Eobard had turned out to be a trap for them. She reached out for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ve got facial recognition running, but –if they’re not near any cameras, it’ll be harder,” Cisco swallowed, pulling free. “We’re gonna find him, though, we ar-“ he was cut off by a voice from the speakers.

“I know you can hear me,” and oh god why did both Hartley Rathaways have to sound so smug and superior?

“What do you want, Piper?” Caitlin demanded, voice shaking. “We can protect you from Zoom. We can send you home.”

“That’s funny. You think he had to force me here? I don’t want anything to do with him, yes, but when I heard about this—your little set up, your little team, that he was still around in this world? Oh, I wasn’t going to pass that up. I came for my rematch, Caity.”

“Don’t call her that,” Cisco snapped. “What did you do to Barry?”

“Nothing much, yet. No point. It’s really not much of a fight, honestly. How he ever beat the other me, I don’t know. Maybe I should ask. Pathetic, really. A few altered soundwaves and he can’t even stand.”

“If your rematch sucks so much, then let him go,” Cisco said, glancing at the vitals screen. Numbers that had been in green were dipping yellow, never a good sign. Still nothing on facial recognition.

“Oh?” Piper laughed. “Oh, that is funny. You thought I was here for this?” over the com, there was a groan of pain, a foot against flesh. “Oh, no. The Flash is fun, but not my…speed. No, I’m here for you, Cisquito. A true test, who the master of sound waves really is. You, or me. Fifteen minutes, shall we say, near the overpass north of STAR Labs, or your little—what was it? Scarlet knight?—has his organs shredded from within. Leave the Ice queen.”

“’Sco, don’t—“ Barry’s voice was weak, and suddenly there was a crunch. The air filled with static as the commline went dead.

Cisco stood, still trembling, reaching for his coat. Caitlin grabbed his arm, her hand clammy. “ Cisco, I thought your powers were—visions.”

“They are. Maybe other me—oh god, there’s another me, I hope his life sucks—sucked—less but sounds like he’s, I’m, dead ok, that’s not –let’s not think about that—maybe he had something else, like how our Linda didn’t have powers?”

“He’ll kill you!” Caitlin squeaked.

“Vote of confidence, thanks.” Cisco shrugged, his eyes haunted. “If I don’t go, he’ll kill Barry. Maybe I can, I dunno, distract him.” He ducked into the storage room, returning with a bulky package. “I maaaay have been tinkering with the remains of Piper Prime’s gauntlets. Hopefully that’ll be enough. Also, can I borrow your car?”

“If you promise to bring it back. One piece or not. It just has to be you bringing it back.” Caitlin whispered. “I know. You have to—go. Be careful. Please.”

Cisco nodded and took the keys. “I will. I’m sorry.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris and Wally, " What happened doesn't change anything"  
> followup to previous Wally-got-kidnapped ficlets

Iris had not moved from Wally’s bedside, where her brother had been wrapped in close to every fuzzy blanket in the West household. Downstairs, Ronnie was similarly bundled with blankets borrowed from the Steins and Caitlin’s apartment. Though the rescue party had gotten home hours ago and nearly three AM, only Ronnie and Wally had managed much sleep, if any.

Caitlin had sobbed herself  dry with relief, clinging to Ronnie so tightly Iris was fairly certain they’d never pry the two apart, though that had only lasted until they’d reached the West’s home. The doctor had worked herself into a frenzy sending Barry after a second IV and setting Cisco to making soup and checking both Ronnie and Wally over for injury.

Iris had wanted to vomit, seeing the bruises and lacerations, even as they slowly healed, now that Wally was out of the freezer of a cell and hooked up to a half dozen IV bags that had been made up specially for the hypoglycemia that plagued speedsters. They were for emergencies just like this, and it pained Iris that they’d actually needed them.

Oh, she was going to tear Eiling to shreds, figuratively and literally. She’d already emailed Larkin at CCPN with the promise of a story about a US General kidnapping a local college student for information on creating metahumans (“and a story that Mason Bridge was investigating last year before his murder”), and Felicity had texted to say that the information and proof she needed was not only downloaded to twelve secure servers for her access, but Felicity had hard copies waiting for Barry to pick up as soon as he felt up to the run.  
  
Joe was on guard, Patty and a few other cops all patrolling the neighborhood in case Eiling came after them. Iris half hoped he would, if only so that she could kick him in the face. God, Wally was a kid, sure he was half a head taller, and with super powers, but he was only a kid.  
  
It was just a half hour after sunrise when he stirred, and Iris leaned forward. “Walls? It’s me, it’s Iris.”

He blinked hazily, and then struggled in a panic, eyes wide. “Ris? No–”

“Wally, it’s ok. You’re safe, you’re home.” Iris squeezed his hand. “Safe, ok?”

“He said he was gonna hurt you,” Wally’s voice was a thin croak, and Iris’s heart broke.

She grabbed the thermos she’d brought up and poured some of the hot chocolate into a mug, helping him to sit up and sip at it. Caitlin had been very clear that he needed warmth, and calories, after being held for almost two full days. It was a miracle, honestly, that he hadn’t slipped into a hypoglycemic coma.

Wally coughed. “It’s good.”

“You were really, really brave, Wally. I’m so proud of you, just rest, ok?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Wally mumbled around another sip.

“I know. Barry told me. Just rest, ok?”

“Is that man ok?”

Iris couldn’t help but smile. That was the little brother she’d come to know over the last three months, worried about everyone before himself.

“He’s going to be. He’s going to be just fine.” Iris was sure he would be, with Caitlin’s care. it was too much a miracle finding him, alive, after all this time, for him not to be, in the end. “Now you sleep. It’s hot soup and oatmeal and bed rest for you, kiddo. No running around for a week, Caitlin’s orders.”

At that Wally protested, finding new energy God-knew-where. “What? I’m grounded?”

“Yep,” Iris said. “ You can keep me company while I get a mob of twitter followers to take out Eiling.”

“But-I–I wouldn’t make that mistake again, I’ll do better–”

Iris shook her head. “Wally, what happened doesn’t change anything. It’s not because we don’t think you’re capable, I promise. Barry’s been taken by surprise more times than I can count. It’s not that we don’t think you can handle yourself. It’s that you spent the last two days being tortured by some psycho with a chest full of medals and you need to heal. So Go. To. Sleep. I’m right here with you. Just rest, Walls.”

“M’kay, Ris,” Wally yawned. “M’cold.”

Iris draped another blanket over him.


	18. Lost, and Lost Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Ronnie, "I said I'd do anything"  
> Canon compliant, Character death.

Caitlin held tightly to the wrinkled shirt, one she had kept when the others had been given to Good Will, months and months after that December night. She’d slept in it, baggy and oversized, warm despite the short sleeves, until it had lost his smell, and she’d wept for hours the night she realized, mid-January. After that, when it no longer felt like an embrace, she’d put it in a drawer, trying to tell herself to stop day dreaming about what was gone, what she couldn’t get back. Put it away, put Ronnie away in a drawer, like Doctor Wells’s ability to walk, like all the dreams and lives that had been destroyed.  
  
She had tried to be numb inside, pretended she felt nothing, focusing all her energy on the life she could save, but as the days went by—Cisco not meeting her eyes, Barry Allen’s eyes closed to the world—she had found it harder and harder. Orange is the New Black went unwatched in her Netflix queue, she threw out the coupons and menus for his favorite Indian and Thai restaurants, and threw her phone as hard as she could at the wall when she woke one morning to an email about flights to Tahiti.  
  
“Italy would have been fine. We’ll go to Italy, I promise,” she said to the shirt one night, trying to find one last hint of Ronnie in the soft cotton, but it was only a shirt.  
  
It was four months before she could walk past a pizza place without feeling ill.  
  
She played the game with herself, knowing it would only make the heartache worse but at the same time desperate to remember what his smile had looked like—the way his eyes crinkled at a bad joke—the way he’d furrowed his brow over a hard equation—the way he’d always stopped at lemonade stands in the park to give kids selling bitter pink lemonade at twenty-five cents a cup a five dollar bill just to see them smile—the feel of his hand in hers when they took a SCUBA diving class and she’d panicked. What would she do, for one more smile? One more kiss, one more chance to hold his hand, one more moment to tell him she loved him?

Anything. If someone showed up right then and there and offered her the chance, some angel, some demon, anything, she knew she’d trade anything. Her home. Her job. Her sight or her legs or her hands or her hearing. She’d give up the rest of her life, if she had to, if that was the deal.  
  
She never told anyone about the game, didn’t want anyone to think she was suicidal. It was silly, she knew that, because there were no deals with tempters, no fairy godmothers offering wishes. This was a world of fact, and science, and miracles didn’t just happen. Miracles were made, through hard work of others, and there was no one and nothing that could bring Ronnie back to her. So she held the shirt close and wept, on the low days, the hard days, and then shut it away again.  
  
And then the miracles. She almost wished she hadn’t gotten them, because what was she supposed to do now? He was alive, after all that time, a whole year, and yet he wasn’t even himself, but still—alive. And then he was back, and he was whole and he was hers, and holding her hand before the world shattered again like glass in a storm of government bullets, and Caitlin knew that this wasn’t having him back.

“I know,” she’d said, looking from Ronnie to the professor. “You have to go.” And she wanted so badly to cling to him and refuse to let him leave her again, but she let go, his hand slipping from hers, and she went home that night and pulled out the shirt that smelled like him again and wrapped it around herself her grandmother’s shawls.  
  
And then he came back, again, and for a moment she’d thought maybe it was all over. Maybe all the pain and fear and wondering and loss was over and this was the happy ending they deserved after everything. She’d gotten her single minute, she’d gotten more than a minute: she had a lifetime, wrapped around her like a ring on her finger, and it hadn’t cost her her house, or her sight, or her life.  And then the sky opened up and she could hear his words in her head, unspoken.

_“Whatever happens, I love you.”_

_“I love you, too.”_

She almost thought her wish and promise, her desperate bargain, had come true when the flames erupted, that she’d gone blind. But then the light faded and she saw the world in tatters around her and she knew. He was gone, again. What miracle would there be this time? But Stein shook his head at her, touched the side of his head, his heart, shook his head again as if he himself did not understand the emptiness there.  
  
She hadn’t said it. She hadn’t told him, in that last minute, she hadn’t said it, she’d just said it was too dangerous. How could she not have told him she loved him? Over and over the last words spilled from her tongue in her memory and they were wrong. God, they were so wrong and she couldn’t take it back she couldn’t change them.  
  
She had wanted to remain in the rubble, weeping, for hours, she had wanted to do like her ancestors, kneeling in the stone, letting free the wailing in her heart. But she stood, wiped the sweat and tears from her face with smudged hands, and got to work. People needed her.

That night she went home and pulled out the shirt, pressing it to her face.

“I said I’d do anything,” she whispered to it. “Please. One more minute. Anything, for just...just one more. I have to tell him. I have to tell him.”


	19. The One Where Harry Gets Punched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because screw creative titles  
> Cisco and Earth two Wells, "Don't freaking touch me."  
> set after 2x05

For the first time in months, Cisco had a decaf coffee, and didn’t drink a frankly terrifyingly large energy drink that night. Now that his friends knew about the vibes—the dreams—he’d been having, maybe it was time to stop being so afraid of them. He wanted to stop, anyway. So instead of staying up till just before dawn and crashing, blackout tired, he let himself crawl into bed while the sky was still dark, and closed his eyes.  
  
He regretted his decision. Honestly he’d only been sleeping every other night, every third night if he could manage it, because at least when he was awake the dream-memory-visions didn’t seem to last as long. And while he saw plenty of things, worlds where Caitlin was blonde and made Lisa Snart seem like a girl scout and worlds where everyone he cared about was dead and worlds that might have been this one but something horrible always happened like a warning he was months too late to stop, he still saw the timeline that had haunted him for months and months every week at least once. Tonight, it was different though.

He still stood in the basement, the false projection of the man in yellow behind him, Harrison Wells—Eobard Thawne—coming closer and circling like a shark smelling blood, those awful words— _Smart, but not that smart, dead to me for centuries—_ something twitched and shifted. The blue-grey tinge that his visions always took shattered into technicolor, real as the world—and wasn’t that stupid, because most people dreamt in black and white and only imagined the color later—and it wasn’t Eobard Thawne crushing his heart, alone in a room. It was Wells, the real Wells, and Barry was standing there, not moving to help, and Caitlin stood, still frozen in shock, and wells was holding that damn helmet, shoving it at his chest hard enough to bruise but it went through, it went through and he could feel his heart shredding.  
  
He woke to sweat soaked sheets and his own heartbeat, racing far too fast for comfort. Cisco stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, trying to remember how to breathe. His chest still hurt. He went back to his room, flipped on the light, and read old Calvin and Hobbes comics until it was time to go to STAR Labs again. Screw decaf, he was never going to sleep again.  
  
He wasn’t the last to arrive, or the first, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone, so he hid away in what had been his safe place, his little lab with his desk and his computer and his stash of candy—which Harry had gone through, what a dick, he’d even eaten all the green jolly ranchers. If he was going to be a terrible human being, he could have at least taken the purple ones instead.  
  
“Are you still sulking?” It was the candy-thief and not-a-murderer-but-still himself, and Cisco couldn’t help but flinch at the familiar voice and face. Eight months and a timeline reset, and he’d still never, ever forget. “Honestly, Crisco, I did you a favor.”

“Huh. That’s what He said, too. About destroying our lives. So excuse me for not believing you. Also, would you please go find another office to be…creepy in, or do you little mysterious watch tinkering in or whatever, there are literally so many of them and this one’s mine.” Cisco refused to look up, which he again regretted when rather suddenly there was a hand on his arm.

Cisco flinched away, jerking so violently he crashed into the mostly empty desk that had held his tools. They clattered, but Cisco could hardly hear it over the sound of his panicked breathing and pounding heart. “Don’t. Don’t freaking touch me. Ever again.”  
  
Harry snorted, and Cisco flinched again, hating the panic response.  “I did what I had to do. I’m not that man, and you need to stop acting like a scared child and deal with it. Would you rather I’d done nothing, we’d let Light get away and quite possibly kill hundreds—or get hundreds be killed when Zoom goes after her? Or when Zoom goes after that Linden girl she resembles? Let a real chance at saving innocent people from that monster slip through our fingers because _you were too much of a coward to use your powers?_ ”

Cisco stepped back as Harry closed the gap between them, his hand trembling with what had to be barely contained anger but looked instead like vibration, and reached out, shoving Cisco hard.  
Again the vision flared to life, Wellsobard circling, raising a hand, Cisco’s heart racing, tears on his cheeks, knowing he was going to die, and then he was back in his own body, still standing, not crumpled on a dirty cement floor. He blinked. Wells was sprawled on the floor, his nose bleeding. Caitlin stood over him, shaking out a fist.

“That felt good,” she commented. “C’mon Cisco, let’s go find Barry and Jay. After _that_ performance, I think it’s a safe bet that you’ve out stayed your welcome, Harry. There are _lines_ here, and you crossed them. Good luck in this world, by the way, everyone thinks you’re a murderer. And dead.”  
She took Cisco’s arm, pulling him away from Wells, his desk, and the sudden vision of Caitlin with icy eyes and a cold smirk.


	20. Bullet(point list) Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westhallen, "you have to remember." Bonus of Eddie not being the one being spoken to.  
> AU, set 9 months after the singularity  
> mention (brief) of canon suicide, averted in this au

“Get out,” Barry says, his voice low and trembling. “I don’t care what he promised you, or told you, but get out.”

“Barry?” Iris reached forward, her eyes dark with concern. “Are you ok? Did you hit your head, or—“

“No,” Barry snapped. “I’m fine.” But he was practically vibrating with anger, his eyes still locked on the figure in the doorway. “What do you even want, what’s his game now? He sent other Linda to make me hesitate, is that why he sent you? Or—“

“Barry.” Eddie said, his voice low and hurt, jaw trembling. “It’s me. I’m not—it’s not.”

“Barry, it’s Eddie,” Iris took his hand trying to tug him over. “It’s not a trick, it’s not one of Zoom’s doppelgangers. Please.”

“Iris, get out of here, run,” Barry insisted. “I’ll hold him off.”

“Barry, he’s not—“

“Eddie DIED.” He turned back to the man in the doorway, wearing—God, that was Eddie’s tie, that was his shirt, the way he tried to deal with his hair, that was his heartbroken expression but it couldn’t be Eddie. “I saw it. You saw it, Iris. He died and I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t bring him back. That isn’t _him._ ”

“Barr, please—“ Not Eddie tried, taking a step forward. Barry shoved Iris behind him.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” he seethed.

“Barry, what’s wrong with you?” Iris demanded. “What do you mean, you couldn’t save him? You did.” Her voice softened. “You did save him.”

“No.” Barry’s shoulders slumped. His voice broke, he didn’t want to cry in front of the Not Eddie. “I didn’t. He shot himself, the wormhole—“

“You went after me.” Eddie’s voice, pleading. “You brought me back. I remember blue light—not Zoom’s, I swear, and your lightning, and you _brought me back._ ”

“You did,” Iris tugged at Barry’s hand. “I saw it, it was like a thunderstorm in your hands. Barry.”

Barry looked at Iris, his eyes suddenly wide and frantic. “You, too. Oh God, it’s you, too, no, please—Iris, where’s Iris, the real—“

“Bartholomew Henry Allen, you stop that and listen! It’s not a trick, God, you have to remember!” Iris was weeping, clutching at his arm. Barry wanted to flinch away, wanted to run, but he felt rooted to the spot, a lightning-struck tree.

“I do remember. Nine months ago Eddie Thawne died, Iris, and—you, whoever you are. I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to hurt you, so just—get out, leave. Don’t do this. Please.” Barry croaked.

“No, nine months ago you saved me. Barry. I can prove it!” The man with Eddie’s eyes fumbled at his shirt collar, undoing the buttons. “When we first met, it was raining, a mugger had stolen Iris’s laptop, you had a bloody nose and I stopped the guy—some pithy one liner. That was the night of your accident. I took some of Joe’s shifts so he could be with you and I sat with you and Iris when I had time off. We started dating two months after you woke up, you and me and Iris went out to celebrate and we got called away to deal with Tony Woodward.” He raced through fact after fact, his eyes—so blue and bright—never leaving Barry’s.

“I started the Metahuman task force with Joe so that if something went wrong, we could protect you, and you thought it might put me more in danger. We all moved in together in January, and it took us four days to unpack even with you doing most of the work because Iris couldn’t decide which drawers we should put the silverware in and where the towels should go and you refused to put anything anywhere until we all knew.”

Barry trembled, wanting to believe, each word was true but his memory wasn’t _wrong_ he _knew_ it wasn’t.

“You brought your nightlight, the one you’ve had since you were seven, it’s shaped like a clownfish and I called it Nemo and you always rolled your eyes at me over that, and it’s still in your drawer because the bulb hasn’t worked since you were 12.”  He stepped forward, and Barry flinched backward, lightning sparking in his fingers.

Eddie’s voice grew louder. “You hate fancy restaurants because the portions are so small, but you put up with it because Iris and I like them, and you still love La Note because it was your Mom’s favorite, so we go every month, and you always get the bouillabaisse, and Iris always gets the steak with parsley butter, and I always get the St. Jacques’s, and we all share, and we get it for free—because last march you saved the owner and his kids and when he asked how he could repay you, you said ‘well, my friend really likes your bouillabaisse.’ And Iris called you ten kinds of dork for that. And,” he faltered for a minute, still fumbling with his shirt. “You’ve only ever told me, Iris, Joe, and your dad that you’re Ace and I had to google what that meant and started shouting at you for thinking that I’d be upset or pressure you and it was a mess but we worked it out, and you snore really, really loudly and once tried to blame it on our nonexistent cat!”

“How…” Barry swallowed hard, frowning. It looked like Eddie. It sounded like Eddie, those were things that only Eddie could have known, but—it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be Eddie, Eddie, whose body he’d seen, whose body he’d reached for and missed, Eddie was gone, for nine months like a hallucination ghost, haunting dreams and the corners of his eyes.

“Barr, please, you have to remember,” Eddie—Was it really Eddie?-- moved closer, and Barry saw what he’d been doing, tugging his undershirt down to show a bullet scar, just below his heart. Barry trembled, searching the sunlit face, wanting it to be real, wanting so badly for it to be real. “It’s me.”  
  
For a moment it seemed the whole world held its breath, and Barry blinked once. Twice. He reached out, touched the blonde man’s arm, and jolted backward with the surge of wrongness, his memory fracturing and piecing together all at once, violent and piercing with too many images of an empty apartment, an empty grave.

“No.”


	21. A Different Trap pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Cisco, Wells, "Don't come any closer"  
> Trap AU. has a follow up

It happened before even Barry could blink. Cisco had been at the edge of the repurposed trap-slash-force-field, trembling even as he tried to get Dr. Wells—Eobard—to confess. And then quite suddenly, in a blur of lightning like sunsets and fire and blood, the script altered.  
  
A confession didn’t matter anymore and Barry sprang to his feet, Joe a half-heartbeat behind him. Eobard Thawne had an arm clamped around Cisco’s neck, half lifting the smaller man off his feet. The other hand gripped Cisco hands in a vice like steel behind his back.  
  
“Don’t come any closer, Barry. Or you, detective. You’re fast, but I promise you, I’m faster.” Eobard laughed. “I can’t believe you thought I would fall for something like this. I almost considered playing along, too. Maybe sending in our resident Everyman.” He laughed, and Barry took a single step forward, too stunned for speed. He flinched as Cisco let out a note of pain, the arm constricting his airway tightening.  
  
“Let him go, Thawne.” Barry wished he were like Oliver Queen, firm and unafraid, with a voice people would listen to, the presence that made people question life choices, sometimes. He hated that he sounded like a scared, inexperienced child, knowing full well that against the Man in Yellow that’s exactly what he was.  
  
“You know,” Eobard addressed Cisco, “You really did have me guessing. I had no idea who you were, until I heard about those little visions of yours. But then it all clicked into place. You, Mr. Ramon, were affected by the explosion, too. Not something I would have guessed, you aren’t much like him, but so _many_ things have changed.”  
  
Joe raised his pistol, aiming for Eobard’s head. “Let him go, or I will shoot.”  
  
“Your Barry can out run bullets, Detective. What makes you think I can’t? Now, how is this going to go? Honestly, it’s a shame you had to try this now. I really do need another week, but perhaps this will work.” Barry could see lightning in the man’s eyes, something people have said they’ve seen in his own, and it was terrifying to see the man in Yellow like that, his eyes not gleaming like a demon thing, but still inhuman, cold and merciless. Barry knew the lightning meant speed is coming, and Cisco must have realized as well because without a warning twitch he suddenly began fighting, struggling against the grip. Eobard only held tighter, cutting off his air, his arms too solid to break free of.  
  
“Stay still. I’ve altered enough destinies. I can change yours as well. Speed things up a bit, if you’ll pardon the incredibly accurate turn of the phrase.”  
  
“Stop,” Barry’s voice was hoarse. “Leave him alone, leave them alone. I’m the one you’ve been fighting, I’m the one you wanted to kill. So do it. Fight me, just leave them alone, let Cisco go. I’m the only one you need to hurt.”  
  
“Oh, believe me, Barry Allen. I _will_ hurt you.”  
  
Before his voice had finished echoing, Eobard had vanished in a whirl of speed and lightning, and Cisco with him.  
Joe and Barry were alone in the room, the cavernous space filled with defeat and the humming of the force field.


	22. A Different Trap pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin, Cisco, "I thought I lost you."  
> Follow up to the Trap AU.

It was Caitlin who heard it, still rubbing her neck from where Peekaboo had pinned her to the wall. Someone shouting, as if from far off, but fainter.

“Barry,” she called, even knowing he was gone, chasing after Wells—or Thawne, or whoever he was. She hoped that Barry caught him, anger flushing her cheeks. She hoped that Barry caught him and beat the tar out of him for Cisco. It had been nearly two weeks since the Trap had failed, but none of them had voiced the awful fear that their friend might be dead.  
  
After all, Thawne had been willing to kill him before. In the other timeline. _He must be so scared. We promised we’d make sure he was ok this time, and we didn’t._ She knew from Cisco’s recounting of the nightmare-memory that she’d distracted Dr. Wells. Somehow, in that other timeline, she’d failed. She knew she wouldn’t have betrayed Cisco, not in a million years, not after everything, but it scared her, it hurt, to know that he’d died, alone, and where had she been?

Barry’d said she’d called him right before some tidal wave, so—had she still been alive? Or had that been before? Had Wells killed her, too? That didn’t matter much, she’d faced her own mortality. But Cisco—she felt like her own heart was being crushed in a vice. How could they have failed this badly? Why hadn’t Dr Wells—Eobard—offered them a trade, or a deal, or left Cisco on her living room floor as a message?

The hoping hurt almost as much as the fear that it was too late, that it had been too late since the moment her boss had grabbed him by the neck.

But now she heard something and the hope-fear rose in her throat. “Joe! Eddie! Iris! There’s –I hear—Someone--!”

Joe was at her side in a moment, Eddie close behind, service pistols raised. “What is it?” the older detective demanded.

“Someone else is down there,” she pointed to the pipeline. “I can hear—“ she took a step, then another, her legs free of the paralysis the gaping hole of the pipeline always filled her with.

The voice was faint, weak, but she heard it, as if it were right in her ears. _Someone? Help! I’m…here…anyone!_

There was a hatch, and Caitlin flung herself at it, scrabbling to get it open.

“Dr. Snow—Caitlin, stay here,” Joe told her, nudging her back with an arm. “It might be a trap.”

“ _NO,_ That’s—Cisco, I’m coming!” She fought past Joe’s arm and Eddie’s outstretched hand as the blonde detective hefted the trap-door open. The pit—a service tunnel, maybe—was dark, but she didn’t care. Her hands met the cool metal of a ladder and she half climbed half fell, missing rungs and banging her knee into the wall without noticing.

Eddie’s flashlight lit the cavernous space, shadows shifting on the walls as he attempted to climb down one handed while holding the light so she could see. A table, various tools, odds and ends, and a chair facing away from the entrance. Caitlin’s heart jumped. In the flickering light she could see dark, matted hair shifting as whoever was sitting there—Tied there—tried to see what was happening.

“Cisco!” Trap or no, Caitlin darted forward, fumbling at the bands of coarse material that dug into Cisco’s bare wrists without luck. He blinked, dully, as if he couldn’t see her—or worse, as if he’d seen her this whole time and had always been wrong. “Cisco, it’s me, it’s Caitli—It’s Cait. I’m here.”

“Cait?” his voice was fainter, and hoarse. How long had be been shouting? How long had he been here? How had she heard him? Caitlin shoved the thoughts away. That didn’t matter now, all that mattered was getting him _out. “_ Oh, thank God, you’re alive, I thought—I thought I’d lost you. Cisco, stay with me—Joe, Eddie, I need a knife or something, and—water.”

Eddie pressed a pocket knife into her hand, not bothering to ask her to move so he could free the younger man. Caitlin sawed at the bonds until they snapped, wincing at the places where they’d left raw marks, babbling. “It’s ok, Barry’s going to _end_ him, it’s ok now, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t –sorry. You didn’t know.” Cisco coughed as Joe and Eddie helped him to his feet, supporting his weight when it became clear he couldn’t stand.

Caitlin insisted they get out first, following only once the detectives had rigged Joe’s coat into a kind of sling and started up. In the light, Cisco looked even worse, his face a little thinner, his eyes shadowed. Caitlin shoved a mug of hot chocolate with cinnamon into his hands, holding them steady for him. He swallowed it gratefully, still shivery even with Joe’s coat over his shoulders and a blanket over his lap. Caitlin sat close, her heart still racing with relief. He was alive.

He was alive, and he was safe, and he was Home.

And sitting beside him, her heart breaking at the thought that all that time he’d been so close, that if she’d only listened harder, they could have saved him sooner, Caitlin realized that she was Home, too.


	23. Ice Queen pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Earth Two Caitlin, " You don't have to do this."

Cisco really, really wished this was just one of his still-creepy vision/vibe things and not actual-freaking-life, because the color scheme—all blue and grey—was right and he didn’t want it to be happening. But every time he blinked it was still horribly true, and fear pulsed in his heartbeat.

Definitely-not-Catilin-Snow stood in front of him, blocking the exit from  the supply closet back to his little office, and thus the rest of the lab and any way to contact, say, Barry. Or Joe. Or Jay. Hell, he’d settle for Harry right now, and given the ongoing maliciously intended prank war? That was saying something.

“Look,” she said and it sounded like her, but it wasn’t, this Caitlin’s hair was frosty white and her eyes had gone colorless like ice, and she was colder than his Caitlin—the real Caitlin—had ever been, even at her most isolated. “Just give me the access codes, and I won’t hurt you.”

Cisco hesitated a moment, seeing his breath mist out in front of him, then tried his old stand-by, which, granted, had never actually worked. “You don’t have to do this. We can help you. We can help you, and send you back, or—“

Frosty-Caitlin shook her head. “I don’t need help. Give me the passwords, Ramon, and I won’t kill you. You know I can. And with the cameras iced over, it’ll look like a tragic case of—what was his name? Captain Cool? Coming after you again. So sad. Or, you can just give them to me, and I just put you on ice for an hour or two and vanish into the night. Your call.”

The access codes and passwords—access to every scrap of information they had about the metas they’d fought, Barry’s powers, Zoom, the Reverse Flash, the progress they’d made on power dampeners, everything, and then the way they’d let anyone who had them get into STAR, into the safehouse under Eobard’s house…information on the Arrow and his team…No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You think it’s worth your life, when I’ll get them eventually anyway?” She shook her head again, ice flakes drifting down like glitter from a bad costume wig. “Fine. Give me the codes, and I let you live and give you something I know you want.”

Cisco snorted, or tried to, his teeth chattering. “You think you can bribe me? You don’t have anything I want, _Bruja._ ”

“Oh, I think I do.” She stepped closer, and instinctively he stepped back, his back colliding with one of the shelving units.

“You give me what I want, and I’ll tell you where the real Caitlin Snow is.”


	24. Pay the Piper pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Barry," I didn't mean to hurt you."  
> Follow up to E-2 Piper kidnapping Barry.

Cisco was pretty sure this was the overpass where Ronnie had basically lived while he and Stein had been merged and low on clarity and sanity, and how was that for parallels? Honestly, he was pretty sure he could nail down freaking character arcs in his own life, which would have been really, really cool if he were the Main Character, but he wasn’t, which was pretty much why none of this made any sense. Why did Hartley—er, Earth two Evil Piper, not that their Piper wasn’t evil exactly but that was also beside the point—want to fight _him_ , of all people? Why wasn’t he challenging his doppelganger, or Barry, or his Flash, or hunting down an ROUS to lure into the harbor or something like that?

“I can hear you,” Piper 2.0 called, and Cisco muttered his Tia Delores’s favorite curse under his breath, because of course he wouldn’t get a minute to scope out the situation. The guy looked a lot like Hartley, which was expected—if Hartley had been on his way to a Harry Potter/ Lord of the Rings convention, or a Ren Faire. It was only the sight of Barry on the ground with what looked like two broken legs that kept Cisco from laughing at the billowing cloak-thing Piper was wearing. He was breathing, Cisco could tell that much, and thanked every saint he could name. He also appeared less-than conscious, which was Just Fantastic™.

Ok, so plan A of “Distract him so Barry can run the hell away” looked like that was no longer an option. Plan B it was. Talking to evil psycho metas didn’t go too terribly for Barry all the time, right? Right? No, this was a terrible plan, but it was the only one Cisco had. He held up his hands, most of the gauntlets covered by the baggy sleeves of his hoodie.

“Look, uh, Rathaway, I don’t know what—“ he started, cut off as a sound wave pulsed through the air to his left. His ear rang, and he stumbled a bit. “What other me did to you, or what powers he had, but I’m not him, so how about—“ another sound blast, this one catching Cisco in the chest and hurling him backwards.

“Are you just going to run your mouth, or are you going to fight?” Piper demanded, his voice echoing more than the overpass should have let it.

Right. Distracting wasn’t working, talking was falling into the 90% category where all it did was get your ass kicked. Cisco scrambled to his feet, dodging where he thought the next blast was aimed, as if he could see the waves and pulse before they left other Piper’s ungloved hands. Great, he wasn’t using tech, he was a Meta. Lovely. “If you don’t want to fight, I can always finish what I started with Scarlet,” Piper sneered as Cisco hesitated.

He may not have had powers that were at all useful in this situation, but that didn’t mean he was going to let that happen.  He raised Piper Prime’s gauntlets, hoped it would work, and aimed. He missed, but when Piper turned to scoff at the tiny dent in the dirt pile nearby, Cisco’s fist didn’t miss the meta’s nose. There was a rather satisfying crunch of cartilage.

Piper fought back, shoving hard and adding his powers to the force to knock Cisco flying. He slammed against the ground, scrabbling upright and swiping blood from his cheek—he wasn’t sure if it was a scratch or some of Piper’s. Unfortunately, the gauntlet hid more harm than good-if there hadn’t been a scratch, there was now.

“Oh, frak.” His left handed gauntlet was worse than scrap, though the right one seemed ok, and before he could get his feet steady again, a sound like thunder burst in his ears. The world seemed fuzzier, dimmer, not quite right. He couldn’t even hear what Piper had to be saying—something nasty and sarcastic based on the fact that his lips were moving—but had a feeling that it wasn’t good.

Cisco longed for the good old days of getting beat up on the schoolyard where at least he had a shot until the odds went to more than three on one. Very faintly, he thought he heard a car alarm, or maybe he felt it, pulsing in his bones and gut like speakers with the bass turned up. The alarm was probably a good thing, maybe cops would show up. If enough of them did—no, unless it was Joe and Patty, it wouldn’t end well, and dammit, he should have called Joe and Patty. Piper kept at it, blasting at the ground around Cisco’s feet, dust flying. Every time Cisco got within punching range, Piper sent him flying.

Cisco tried to see Barry through the dust. Maybe his legs had healed enough? No, not without splints or something, and certainly not in fifteen minutes, or twenty. So far, the record speed for healing a broken bone had been an hour, but that had been for a minor break and he’d had Caitlin to help. Maybe he could get Barry to Caitlin’s car? He’d never be able to drive it, but hell, if they could get there, they could get away, deal with Piper another day. That was always their plan, wasn’t it? Live to fight later? Cisco edged towards Barry, who’d struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, awake but only dimly coherent. Piper shook his head at him, and a pulse caught him square in the chest, knocking him flat. That hobbit-rip-off cloak fluttered as Earth two Piper stepped closer, standing over Cisco. He tried to suck air into his lungs and failed spectacularly.

“You coward, just fight back.” Piper jeered. Cisco was pretty sure that’s what he said, anyway, even though his hearing still felt—off. Fuzzy. “If I wanted to kick a puppy around a parking lot I’d have done that with the Flash. Though if you can’t give me a decent fight, maybe I’ll have to anyway.” And there was that smirk, the same one Hartley had worn whenever he had an answer no one else did, or knew a secret, whenever he was overconfident.

Except Cisco wasn’t sure Piper was being _over_ confident because he felt like one giant bruise and his ears hadn’t stopped ringing. He kicked out, connecting solidly with Piper’s knee, and had to roll to avoid a sonic boom to the face. Hadn’t Piper ever heard of overkill? There had to be something he could do, there was _always_ something he could do. This wasn’t fighting Wellsobard, after all, this was freakin’ Hartley Rathaway’s even more awful double, there had to be something—right?  A foot pressed down on his chest, and Cisco scrabbled for a rock to throw, for something.

“This really was disappointing. Really. I was hoping for something better, something challenging, but you…you really don’t have his powers, do you? Maybe I’ll have to pay a visit to STAR, see if there’s anyone in this reality worth my time.” The foot pressed harder. “Does this world’s Caity have-“

The desperate need for air hadn’t been enough, but with the threat to Catlin, Cisco felt something click into place, a gauntlet clicking against the ground in pieces as something shot from his palms, up and out. The blast was nothing like those directed by the now useless gauntlets, there was nothing mechanical about it. Sound waves, visible as ripples like sunlight on water, slammed forward feeling like music, pulled right from Cisco’s core.

Piper went flying. Cisco scrambled to his feet, wincing, and raised his palms again, feeling like every action star in the world rolled into one. He _pulled_ noise from his vibrating bones, the car alarm, the roar of cars on the overpass, his own wordless cry of fury. The onslaught sent Piper, stunned, back, and back again, and Cisco refused to give him even a moment to get his guard back. Fighting fair was for people in rings and matches, not fighting for their friend’s lives.

Piper managed one more blast, at Cisco’s feet, and Cisco stumbled, righting himself in time to send a moderately gentler blast to Piper’s chin. He hit the ground like a stone, unconscious, though somehow Cisco could still hear his heartbeat. He paused, panting, and scanned the ground for Barry…who was not around ten yards from where he’d been before, looking like he’d been dragged across the ground.

Or pushed, Cisco realized as he remembered flinging out a hand when he stumbled.

“Barry, are you ok?” Cisco ran over, his pulse beating wildly, like it too wanted to become a soundwave and escape.

“I think so-ow. Yeah. Um. What?” Barry blinked.

“I…I don’t know, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I—“

“Sorry? You saved my life. Maybe not my pride, but that’s—ow—not exactly something that hasn’t been wounded before. I’m alive to get over it,” Barry winced.

“Uh, right, ok, um, let’s just… go.”

Caitlin’s tiny fiat no longer had windows, or a windshield, and in general looked pretty badly dented, but it started. Cisco got the worst of the glass off the seats before awkwardly helping Barry into the back, trying not to hurt his friend’s legs worse. Piper, bound with jumper cables, duct tape, three scarves and a copious amount of gauze bandaging courtesy of “Caitlin’s always prepared for everything,” was given no such consideration, crammed into the trunk. If anyone deserved it, he did.

Caitlin was waiting for them, and even from across the parking lot as she started to run, Cisco could hear her heartbeat, a sob in her throat.

“I’m sorry about your car,” he offered.

She didn’t bother to respond, hugging him tightly instead.


	25. Pep Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Barry, "Look at me, just breathe"  
> Spoilers for 2x06

When Barry woke up the first time, it was nothing like his waking from the coma. There was no shoving aside blankets demanding answers, no confusion on what, exactly, had happened, no wondering who the people around him were. And there was no scrambling to his feet, just that horrible interruption, _Guys, I can’t feel my legs._

Caitlin had gotten to work, pressing points on Barry’s feet, on his knees, kneading his calves with her mouth in a firm line. With each prod, she looked at Barry, and he shook his head. Cisco finally tugged Caitlin away. “It—It probably just needs more time. To heal. And it will.” He refused to let the question tilt up at the end, betraying confidence as desperation. Caitlin smiled, but it was her Doctor smile, the one that meant she was struggling to keep everything tamped down.

“Cisco’s right. It’s only been a couple hours. You just need to rest and maybe eat more. You used up a lot of energy last…” she didn’t trail off so much as the words broke her voice. “I’m going to get another IV bag. That should help.”

Barry lay back on the pillows, thumping them so hard Cisco had to hope that the neck-brace was no longer necessary.  But after seeing the way Barry had been thrown around like—like a toy, like a rag doll—more blood and bruise than human, he had to doubt that the brace wasn’t absolutely vital. He inched closer.

“Iris and Joe will be here soon,” he said, hesitantly. This wasn’t like talking to Barry in his coma, or Barry healing a few broken bones in his arm or a crack rib. “They didn’t want to leave, but…”

Barry only closed his eyes, nodded stiffly. The movement made him wince. “He’s still out there.”

Cisco had thought he knew what it meant when someone looked ‘broken,’ and completely, utterly lost. Barry took that to a new level, looking every bit like a puppy kicked to a curb, battered and hurt and confused.

“I’m—“ What was Cisco supposed to say? “I’m sorry for not being fast enough”? “I’m sorry I didn’t have a better plan”? “I’m sorry”? He settled for putting a hand on Barry’s arm, above the IV line. “Barry, it’s going to be ok. “

“How do you know? I can’t move my legs, I can’t walk. How am I supposed to stop him—protect you guys—protect anyone-- without my speed?”

“We’ll find something,” Cisco found he didn’t need to fake that hope. It felt as steady as the dart gun had been in his hands. “We always find something. When Blackout stole your speed, when you were all metahuman rage-y, when Grodd…happened.”

Barry turned his head away as much as he could, but Cisco persisted. “We’ve faced the impossible before. We’ve had miracles before. I should be _dead_ at least twice over, not just from the other timeline, but—no matter what we’ve faced, we’ve made it through.”

“Not all of us.” The heart monitor and machines measuring other vitals spiked, chirping more intensely than they were meant to.

Cisco chewed his lip, but nodded. “Eddie. And Ronnie. Bette. But—it’s because of that we can’t give up now. So just—just look at me, Barry. Just breathe. We have to believe that we can—that you can—get through this, or—or what’s the point of anything?”

Barry did look over, his eyes blurry with tears. “What?”

“What’s the point of anything if we don’t have—I dunno, hope, or—trust. If that lightning chose you, it chose you, for a reason. Maybe we can’t stop the things that have happened, but…if we give up now, Zoom wins. It’s like my Abuela always say. Two choices. Try again, or take a nap in the back garden, only she didn’t mean a nap like a nap, nap. And we aren’t—you aren’t…” he shrugged, scuffing a foot and stopping when Barry noticed the movement. “We thought you might have—when he took you, we all thought—I thought…you were dead. But you aren’t, which means that there’s—tomorrow. And the day after. Maybe it’ll take time, and maybe we don’t have a lot of that, but we can’t— _you_ can’t—just throw in the towel. Ok? If I can make an Anti-telepathy tiara, and Caitlin can develop complex formulas to stop people like everyman in hours, and Harry can show actual concern over another human being? You can walk again. Run again.”

Barry flexed his hand, and Cisco drew back, suddenly sheepish and self-conscious. “Dumb speech, I know. But. I mean it. So. Yeah. I’ll—I’ll just go, Caitlin will be back in a—“

“Stay?” Barry asked. The Lost look was still there, but dimmer, less broken.

 Cisco stayed.


	26. Ice Queen pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Caitlin, "What happened doesn't change anything."  
> Follow-up to Killer Frost goes after Cisco  
> Killervibe!  
> Happy ending because why not.

Cisco froze, grateful it was metaphorical and not literal. _Caitlin. Alive?_ As soon as Evil-twin had revealed herself, he’d panicked. Light’s first move had been to try to kill her double, and before Cisco had been able to call for help, Frosty’d held up Caitlin’s phone, covered in ice. And then iced his. Rude.

“So, Ramon, what’s it going to be? The codes, or your friend?” Queen Frostine paused to examine her fingernails. “And, of course, your own life. No skin off my back if Flash gets distracted chasing down that wannabe Cold, but I’d rather avoid the heat.”

“Proof.” Cisco felt his legs go solid underneath him, steel in his spine as a plan formed—not a particularly good one, but that was Team Flash’s general Thing, Shitty plans that sometimes worked for long enough to put together a real, maybe-no-one-dies plan. “I’m not telling you anything if you’re trading me a—a bod—“ he choked on the word. “A body. If you hurt her, I’m not giving you _shit_.” He really hoped he sounded as convincing as he felt, but the fact that he was trembling with mostly cold, little bit of terror didn’t help. He also hoped Barry would rush in through the doors right about now, or really anyone, but no such luck.

The ice queen smirked, and it looked wrong on her face, Caitlin never smirked like that, cold and calculating and cruel. “She’s not dead. Give me the access codes and I’ll take you to her. Scout’s honor.”

“I don’t believe you. I want to see her first. Then you get the codes, and let us both go.” Oh, god this was the worst plan, but it was all he had.

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“Like I said.” Cisco fought to get his breathing under control, he could still see it in clouds around him, and he wished he had a sweatshirt. Or two. “I want proof you really have her, and know where she is.” If Cisco was wrong about this, he knew he’d just given Killer Frost—that might work as a name—a decent hostage when she’d had nothing before, but he couldn’t gamble with Caitlin’s life. His own, sure, but not Cait’s.

Ice-pale eyes narrowed, searching his face for a trick, but Killer Frost nodded. “Don’t get any funny ideas. You warn anyone, I turn them, you, and your little girlfriend into popsicles.” She stepped to the side of the doorway, motioning for him to go ahead of her. Cisco didn’t bother to mention that Caitlin wasn’t exactly his girlfriend. With both their lives at stake, suddenly it didn’t matter if she returned his feelings or not, he just had to make sure she didn’t die when he could do something.

He’d expected to be pushed along and shoved into the back of one of the company vans. He hadn’t expected to get hit over the head. The Snarts hadn’t even done that. Talk about Rude.

~

Caitlin was peering at him when his eyes popped open, or he really, really hoped it was Caitlin. It looked like Caitlin, the warmth and worry in amber eyes, the way her forehead pinched, the fact that her hand on his arm wasn’t absolutely freezing. He tried to shake his head, but that hurt.

“Cisco? Are you ok? What happened?” she asked, helping him to sit up. It looked like a plain, empty room. No furniture. One door, one light set into the ceiling, though if they could reach it...

“Caitlin? Thank God, I thought—“

“You’re awake, oh, good. You know who you are? Wait. Someone with my own face kidnapped me, so…”

Cisco nodded. They really needed to set up trust passwords. “You once pranked Hartley  by putting files on his computer that had the same names as his, but were just power points and word documents with the Bee movie script and lyrics to 80s pop music. And you sleep with a stuffed elephant.”

Caitlin sighed in relief, and Cisco did the same. “What happened? How’d she get you?” she asked again.

“Your creepy-evil twin got into Star Labs. When I first saw her, I thought…”

“That it was me?” Caitlin sagged against the wall.

“No. No way. I thought she might have killed you. You know, gone all Night Vale / Doctor Light, kill your double. How long have you been here—oh, god, more than a couple hours? Trust password, what’s something only you would know?” Cisco hated himself for the suspicion.

Caitlin didn’t hesitate. “No, I get it. You read every single one of the Harry Potter books out loud to Barry while he was in his coma, under the pretense of helping but really because you were offended that Wells said they were for kids. And it’s been...I dunno. She took my phone, but I’m not starving so not long, I guess. What does she even want? Other me?”

“She wants all the passwords and codes to STAR.  Who knows why-- blackmail, maybe, except that I offered her a way home and protection and she said no, so there’s gotta be some other reason she’s willing to kill for that information.”

Caitlin closed her eyes. “You’re going to give them to her?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Cisco snapped, because he couldn’t take everyone thinking he’d betray them all again, not after the thing with Snart. His voice softened. “But then she said she had you. So let’s get out of here before she comes back. Any clue where we are?”

“Nope. She took my phone.” Caitlin twisted her hands, rubbing at the bare spot where there was no longer even an indent to hint she’d worn a ring. Cisco winced.

“Mine too,” he noted, checking his pockets. “And my watch, but…hah!” he pulled a clip from his hair, letting it fall free. “I knew these were a good investment.” Two more and a bobby-pin joined the pile in his hand. “Ok, what do you have over there?”

Caitlin dug in her own pockets, still lamenting the loss of her purse. She had useful things in there: a blood collection kit, pocket knife, notepad, modified tranq dart courtesy of Oliver and Team Arrow…no one was ever going to say she wasn’t prepared for disaster. If she hadn’t been taken so utterly by surprise, things would probably have been ok, but there was no time for that now. Even if she’d had a couple of bobby-pins she could have picked the lock, maybe, instead of sitting by, helpless and terrified at what the woman with her face might do to her friends. All she had of any real use were a couple scraps of paper, some spare change, a set of tangled earbuds, and her keys. She offered it all to Cisco, who piled it all with the hairclips.

“Oh good, I can work with this. And… Yes. I think I might be able to strip the insulation from the headphones, see if you can un-tangle them. If I hook that to the light socket…”

“You could die.” Caitlin said bluntly.

“Ooooorrr, I could _not_ die, and connect the wires to the door handle…. If it’ll reach.”

Caitlin blinked in understanding, and reached for the headphones. Never before had she been glad that she was too frugal to spend thirty bucks on an armband case, opting to keep her phone in her pocket and using longer corded headphones when she convinced herself to jog every month or so. “I don’t know if it _will_ reach. Are you sure?”

“Do you have a better idea? She could be back any second, come on.”

“If you die, I’ll never speak to you again,” Caitlin meant it as a joke, Cisco knew, but the worry cancelled it out. She handed him the headphones and he took the sharp edge of his multi-tool hairclip and started peeling at the rubber.

“If we get out of this, I’ll buy you dinner.” He joked back, his fingers going steady with the pressure.

“When,” she corrected. She fumbled at her key chain, a small plastic packet on a ring. “And here,” she passed him the packet. It was a pair of tightly folded gloves, and a rubber facemask, the kind for emergency rescue breathing. “I know it might not help much but…”

“It’ll be ok,” Cisco took the gloves anyway, glanced up at the flickering light, and frowned. “On second thought…” he looked from the thin coil of wires he held to the light, to the door, and to the switch itself. Cisco felt himself grin. “Don’t touch the door handle,” he said, attaching one end of the wire to handle with one of the hairclip and using another clip as a screwdriver to take the cover off the switch.

Caitlin peered under the bottom of the door and muffled a yelp. “She’s coming, there’s ice—“

Cisco flipped the light off and used the rubber mask as a guard, connecting the other clip. So far, he wasn’t dead, that was good.

“Cisco, whatever happens, “Caitlin started as someone with her same voice spoke from outside.

“Clever, Ramon, setting off the little beacon in your phone. Too bad for you, it’s at the bottom of the har-“

Caitlin, still peering through the slit, waved a pale hand in the darkness at Cisco, who threw the light switch and prayed.

There was a hiss and pop and a thud outside as Killer Frost hit the floor. Caitlin felt her heartrate drop to normal, using one of her shoes to dislodge the wires. She held the shoe tightly as Cisco tried to pick the lock. “It looks easier in the movies.”

“Let me try,” Caitlin offered, taking the hair pins. “We don’t have much—yes!” she grabbed Cisco’s hand as the door popped open. They ran, abandoning Caitlin’s shoe and the remnants of their supplies in favor of _get out right now before she wakes up._ Luck was on their side—for once—the creepy abandoned warehouse was near many other creepy abandoned warehouses and some that were less abandoned, one of which had actual people wandering around, unloading boxes of chips and frozen burgers. Thank God for big belly burger supply centers. The forewoman lent them her phone to call Barry and let him know A) they were ok 2) Caitlin’s double should really be locked up and quickly.

“Were you serious about dinner?” Caitlin asked, nudging Cisco’s shoulder as they waited in Captain Singh’s office. They’d had to report the break-in at STAR, though they had opted to not mention “evil doppelganger from another planet” and go with “striking similarity, possibly cousins” and rely on Felicity doing some hacking to make the DNA from matching Caitlin’s if it did.

Cisco fidgeted. “Yeah? I mean… I know, what happened doesn’t change anything, we’re—I mean, I’m just your best friend and all but—“

“What if I want it to change?” Caitlin asked, before leaning in for a kiss.


	27. In Proving Foresight May be Vain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Author's choice, " shit are you bleeding?"  
> Set sometime in future S2  
> Character Death  
> Epigraph from Robert Burns' "To a Mouse"

_The best laid schemes o’ mice an men gang aft agley_

_An’ lea’e us naught but grief an pain for promis’d joy._

“Cisco?” It was the first time Harry had used his actual name, and the tone was as close to an “I’m sorry for being such a dick” as anyone would ever get out of the man. Cisco blinked, the edges of grey and blue fading already.

“How is she?” Harry asked the question, but everyone was thinking it, and Cisco could feel the weight of worry pressing down on him.

“Alive,” he croaked. “I need paper.” A pad of it and a pencil were pressed into his hands. Cisco didn’t even wait to reach his desk, just sank to the floor beside Harry’s dropped jacket, scribbling and sketching.  Ever since the night they’d failed to trap Zoom, Worry for Jesse’s safety had sky rocketed, and Cisco focused as much energy as he could on trying to vibe into the other earth. “She’s—scared. I saw her face. But she’s not dead. She’s mostly just scared.” He didn’t mention how thin she looked, the way he could tell even in the blue tinged greyscale of his visions that her wrists had to be red and raw.

“Oh, my brave Jesse,” Harry breathed, and it seemed for a moment like he wanted to hide his face in his hands. Cisco couldn’t meet those steel-blue eyes, worry and panic in them like storm clouds, so much like the way he’d seen Eobard’s eyes when he’d tried to save them all from Blackout. It was still too much. So he focused on every detail he could remember, all he’d seen, the texture of the walls, the dim lighting, the cage, the ladder in the background, the—Cisco dropped the pencil.

“Can you—“ Harry held out the jacket again. Cisco hadn’t seen him pick it up. “Can you get her a message? Can you tell her we’re coming?”

Cisco shook his head, a gaping pit in his stomach. “It doesn’t work like that. But. I think—I saw…” he chewed the pencil, soft wood giving way easily. “I think I know where she is.”

“Where?” Barry demanded from his wheelchair, only a heartbeat behind Harry’s own cry, and cisco went rigid with a flash of fear as Harry’s hand gripped his arm. With it came a memory—not a vision, but painful all the same _, Eobard gripping his arm and telling him to never make another weapon, shaking him with strength Cisco hadn’t realized was more than just a firm grip._

He gasped, and shook free. “You won’t like it, but—“ Cisco glanced up and around until he saw Iris. “It looks like where Eobard took—took Eddie. Harry, you said that out STAR Labs looks just like yours?”

“Except for the part where yours blew up, yes, why—no.” His face went ashen. “No, I looked. I looked everywhere, I—“

“Service tunnels, underneath the Accelerator,” Cisco said. “Guys, I think I have an idea.”

~

Jesse shrank back as far as the ropes would let her when she heard footsteps, even if it was ridiculous. Zoom was never slow, there was never any gap between hearing and seeing. But Zoom had allies, sort of. Other victims, mostly, she figured, other metas. How many of them had he learned the identities of by way of her father’s tech? She shuddered, the movement sending another jolt of pain through her arms.

But there was no lightning, no blue-black blur like an oil slick, just a—a kid, maybe a little older than her, dark hair, dark eyes. His grim face lit with a grin when he saw her.

“Hey, don’t freak, kay? I’m not gonna hurt you.” He pulled a rather large set of bolt cutters from a bag on his back and started working on the door. Jesse’s heart pounded.

“Who are you?”  She was safe, for now, or Zoom would have killed her already. She knew that. But this guy? He wouldn’t have time to twitch before Zoom…

He grinned, almost cocky, but she could tell there was fear behind the smile. “I’m Luke Skywaker, I’m here to rescue you.”

The door open, he stepped in, cutting through her bonds like they were made of wet crepe paper. “ I can’t run, you—you have to get out of here, he’ll kill you!” she croaked, her voice tight with fear as much as dehydration as he helped her stand—her legs ached horribly, not used to supporting so much of her, and her hands tingled with bloodrush.

“It’s ok, I’ve got some friends keeping him busy in my world, and there’s a place we’ll be safe.” He half pulled, half carried her after him.

“Your world? Did—Did my father send you??”

“Yeah, yeah, he did, he said to tell you he’s proud of his Jesse quick. Now, c’mon, this way.” He led her up the ladder and through a wide tunnel that looked too familiar. She hadn’t seen where Zoom had taken her all those days—weeks?—ago.  Suddenly it dawned on her, but she didn’t stop her hobbling run.

“This – this is—is Star—labs?”

“Yeah,” her rescuer said, breathless himself. He fumbled at a doorway, punching in some kind of code. The door opened, and they were off again, tearing down the empty hallways of the basement, the air stinging her bloody wrists, lights all blurring—God it had been so long since she’d been able to run, to breath freely.

Something sounded—not an alarm, just a tinny voice she couldn’t make out. The young man grabbed her shoulder, pulling her faster “End of this hallway, there’s a room with a big blue glowy thing, go through it, there’ll be a big platform with a button in the middle. We just have to get to that.”

Before they reached the door, blue lightning swept through the room. Jesse cried out as she was shoved forward, closer to the door.

“Jesse, Run!”

She heard a crunch and a cry and threw the door open, straining to reach the blue light. She didn’t make it.

 **A valiant effort, little hero. What a shame.** Zoom’s voice pulsed in every bone, in Jesse’s very blood, as a clawed hand gripped her throat. She fought, but what little energy she’d had she’d used. If only they’d been a little faster. **I still need you, pity.** The world swirled blue and she was back in the _cage_ , dumped on the floor like a sack of grain, her head cracking against the back bars, too dizzy to do more than blink, and not cry.

**This is a lesson. Learn it. There is no escaping from _me._**

The demon thing was gone, and Jesse fought down a sob, looking around her desperately hoping that at least—

“Luke!” He was on the ground just outside her prison, the door fixed, welded or soldered into place. “Oh—oh god—are you ok? Shit,” her father never liked cursing but _he wasn’t here_ , “are you bleeding?”

He turned his head, his eyes glossy with pain. “Jes--se. ‘M sorry wasn’t f’st enough.” His voice was wrong, wet, and in the scant light she could see the blood on his lips, and Zoom’s booming words echoed— _a lesson. Oh god, no._

She reached out as far as she could, but he was out of reach. It wasn’t like she could do anything, anyway, his ribs looked like they’d all been crushed, there was so much blood, how had she not seen it before? Tears streaked down her cheeks. “You said you had friends, they’ll come for us, right?”

“Zoom’s wrong,” he coughed. The smile returned, dim.

“No, hold on, just hold on.” She reached again, and his fingers twitched, spreading just enough for her to touch them. He jolted, and the smile brightened.

“There’s escape. M’friends. Th‘ll get you out.” His fingers dropped away, his eyelids flickered shut, open, shut again. “Tell ‘em. M’sorry, but. M’idea. No blame.”

Jesse sat, numb and horrified, jamming her shoulder farther against the bars, trying to reach him.

“Padre nuestro… que estás en... los cielos,” he stumbled over the words, unable to say more. She didn’t recognize them, didn’t understand.

“Please, hold on,” Jesse whispered. “Luke, don’t—“She couldn’t rip her eyes away from him. He couldn’t have been more than 23? 24? And he was—oh, god, he was dying because of her, because he’d wanted to help her. The shallow movement of his chest slowed, and the sound of labored breathing lapsed into silence.

Jesse wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Regret. Nothing.


	28. A Familiar Face pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Joe, "I'm Gonna be sick"  
> AUish, set after 2x06

The dart looked so innocuous—for a dart, that is. Cisco knew that the right kind of dart, or the right kind of thing in the dart, or any dart if it it the right place, could be deadly. But the thing that he’d fired, that Zoom had torn from his suit with a howl, didn’t look like anything special. Just your average tranq dart, the serum inside gone. It hadn’t been enough to stop Zoom forever, but it had been enough to get him to drop Barry and run, and Cisco chose to focus on that victory.

It was a victory, even if Barry still had a hard time walking unsupported, and Harry was going to drive everyone away with his panic over Jesse. Because they weren’t all dead, and that counted for something.  
  
Cisco picked up the dart again, careful not to poke himself, because even with all the serum gone that didn’t mean the thing was safe, and noticed something. It blended in with the dark metal barbs, unmistakable now that Cisco peered closer. A scrap, the tiniest fragment, of black material.

“Oh,” he breathed, displacing it with a set of tweezers. Part of Zoom’s suit. They could use that, they could use that to maybe find out who he was. Cisco reached for a baggy, and froze as he brushed against the tiny scrap. His vision went grey and blue instantly. No one was in the room to catch him as he fell.

~~

“What did you see?” Harry was crouched beside him when he blinked away the edges of blue-flame lit flog that always filled his mind when the visions started and ended.

“Give him room.” Joe’s voice. Cisco flinched as someone tried to help him sit up.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Cisco groaned, and the others—he could see Caitlin, now, and Iris, only just made it away from  him before he leaned over and heaved.

“But what did you see, was it—Jesse?” Harry’s voice was tight and worried and Cisco hated it, didn’t want to listen to the questions, or answer them.

“Cisco?” Joe again. Cisco shrugged away from the offered hand, getting to his feet shakily.

“I saw her. She’s still alive.”

“What did you vibe on?” Caitlin asked, her voice low and tense. Cisco waved a hand at the table.

“Dart. There was—some of his suit.”

“You vibed on that _Thing?_ ” Joe asked, his face twisted with horror. Cisco shuddered. “You let him? You let him try to see that—that—“Joe turned to Harry, then Caitlin and Barry.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean too…but…I..”

“Sit,” Iris pulled out a chair, attempting to communicate _calm down_ at her father. His gaze shot back _You idiot kids keep nearly getting yourselves killed, no, I will not calm down._

“How is she?” Harry asked, as he did every time Cisco vibed—and half of those were random, sometimes he couldn’t hone in on Jesse at all.

“It was only a second. I didn’t see…her…the visions don’t work like that unless they’re my past, I can’t control them.” Cisco sat, and wiped a hand across his mouth. “I saw…him. Zoom.”

Caitlin moved forward, a hand on Cisco’s arm. “He didn’t—there’s no way he could see you, right?”

“I don’t know, but I …I saw his face. Not the mask.”

There was a moment of stillness, half a heartbeat and then—

“That’s great! If we can find out who he is, maybe we can find a better way to stop him,” Barry’s eyes lit up. “Maybe find out how he knows so much…”

Joe put a protective hand on Cisco’s shoulder. “Would you feel up to sitting with a sketch artist?”

“I…I don’t have to.” Cisco’s voice was hollow, reedy, thin, so wrong. He looked down at his hands. “I know. I…know who he is.”

“Who?” The question came from all sides, simultaneous.

Cisco’s eyes flickered up, and met Joe’s.


	29. Great and Honorable Destiny pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Barry, Caitlin, Dr Wells/Eobard Thawne "It's for the best."  
> AU where Caitlin and Cisco's powers start to manifest around 1x04  
> Eobard pov

Eobard Thawne had had nearly a decade and a half to plan, to examine the various consequences of his actions, and what would come of them. Obviously, there would be ripples. He had to be certain that Barry Allen not only survived to become the Flash, but reached the required speeds, and survived actually being the Flash for long enough for Eobard to return home. It might doom this timeline, but as long as he wasn’t in it, he didn’t particularly care, and it might not end so catastrophically. Barry had woken from the coma, and with only slight nudging, accepted his powers and the urge to use them for good. The timeline was on track, the little team was coming together.

And then Caitlin Snow, face pale and brow wrinkled with concern, knocked on the office doorway after Barry and Cisco had gone off, presumably to their homes. Her hands shook, and he noticed, his sight sharp as ever behind the useless glasses, that they seemed stiff, shiny. Covered in frost flowers. _That was supposed to come later. She shouldn’t have been affected that strongly…._ He had known, of course, that Caitlin Snow would one day be one of the Flash’s many enemies, Killer Frost. It had been one more way to ensure that Barry’s team fell apart eventually—though it wasn’t meant to happen until later.

This was a dilemma. If she turned on Barry, he would not be able to fight her—not her powers or the woman herself. Eobard had hoped—Gideon had not had much information on Killer Frost, not after the timeline changed. He’d hoped, in a way, that he’d delayed, or prevented it, as much for his own sake as the Flash’s. It was a shame. He would be found out, eventually, or reveal himself at the right time, but now there was this. Just as Barry’s powers were weakened by cold, so were his own. No, Killer Frost could not be allowed to choose either side.

“Caitlin, come in,” Eobard touched the rim of his glasses, putting warmth into his voice. It was almost genuine. “Is something the matter? Did your car…?”

“Dr. Wells, I..” she started, her voice shivering as much as the rest of her. “I think I—there’s something wrong with me, I can’t control it, I can’t…”

“Calm down,” Eobard used the Voice of Reason he’d perfected, dealing with the children he’d had to guide towards the final product of the Particle Accelerator. “Perhaps some tea? And then you can tell me what exactly is wrong?”

Caitlin didn’t notice that Eobard himself didn’t touch the pitcher of milk he set out as she prepared two mugs of tea, though she cursed at herself when the water, once boiling, turned tepid as her fingers brushed the cup. She drained it anyway. Eobard smiled to himself as she explained the chill she’d been feeling, the way she could never get warm, the way the cool water she’d used to wash her hands had frozen.

“I was affected, too, wasn’t I? By the explosion?” She turned her face to him, amber eyes bright with worry in her too pale face. Eobard shrugged, careful to keep the comforting look on his face smooth.

“It seems so. But don’t, ah, fret, Doctor Snow. I’m sure that there is something that can be done. To help you.”

“You saw what that gun did to Barry,” Caitlin said, fear palpable. “I’m like that gun, now…” Her voice was starting to droop. Eobard reached forward, then noticeably hesitated. She flinched, and privately, Eobard smiled.

“Perhaps it would be for the best if you left for a time, Caitlin. Until you get this under control. We’ve seen the kind of accidents Barry has had, here. It would be a shame if someone got hurt because your own abilities …expressed themselves.”

“Yes,” Caitlin reached for her empty teacup, frowning, but shook her head. “Maybe…I can’t just leave, but…”

“I may be in this chair, but I do have some connections. I know of someone—a doctor like yourself, actually. He may be able to help us come up with some ideas, to protect you, and the rest of us from you. Why don’t you pay him a visit?”

Caitlin touched a hand to her forehead, then tried to stop a yawn. “I…”

“Let me call you a cab. You don’t appear to be in any condition to drive.” Two phone calls later, Eobard helped Caitlin into the back seat of a taxi, taking her keys for “safe keeping” and paid the driver in advance plus tip to ensure Caitlin Snow reached Dr. Hadley’s office in Inglewood.  
“You won’t need to wait around.” Eobard told him, smiling at the dazed Caitlin. “Drive safe.”

~~~

The next day, Barry was overly busy with police work, something Eobard was grateful for and had in no way manipulated in his favor. Of course not. Still, there would be questions eventually, he knew that. The car had been easy enough to be rid of, a small suitcase packed, a resignation letter typed neatly left on a desk. But there would still be questions, particularly from…

“Cisco?” Eobard allowed himself the smallest of frowns. “If you’re here to work on the suit, It’s—“

“No, no, uh, that’s not…That’s not it.” He, too, seemed shaky, almost twitchy. Eobard sighed.

“Come in, then,” Eobard honestly couldn’t tell what it was. Perhaps there had been another incident with his family—it was October, not yet time for a Thanksgiving disaster, nor a repeat of the last Christmas. Perhaps it was another round of guilt over the Cold gun. Eobard was beginning to tire of Cisco’s guilt complex, though it did have its uses. “What brings you here, instead of—what was it you were planning? A Firefly Marathon?”

Cisco swallowed, tucking hair behind his ear in a nervous habit and almost…wincing at the movement.  “I think there’s something…going on.”

Eobard stiffened. “With? Barry? Or has Snart returned?”

“Nothing like that, nothing…major.” Cisco attempted a smile, but his voice seemed duller. No, simply softer. Dimly, a bell of recognition went off in Eobard’s head, though he tried to shake that particular thought away. That was far too much of a coincidence, and as far as Eobard was concerned, there was no such thing.

“It seems pretty “major” if you are here on your day off, Cisco. Please, sit. What’s troubling you? I may not be able to help, but…”

“The night the Accelerator exploded. I was right outside of it, with Caitlin. But the—the explosion went up, not out. So…There’s no way that someone inside the building could have been affected. Right?” Cisco’s eyes flickered up from his hands, so dark and afraid that Eobard was reminded of a hunted animal’s.

“Anything is possible,” Eobard said, his tone as non-committal as possible. “Though I doubt it. Why? What makes you so curious all of a sudden?”

“Me. I…I thought I was just…jittery. Too much coffee, or soda, but…I broke every glass in my apartment last night, and I mean that’s only, like, three, but…”

Eobard’s internal alarm bells sounded louder now, and he made effort to keep his breathing slow. “You did something? What?”

“Sonic… sonic blasts. And then, the other day, I—I wanted the TV quieter, I was reaching for the remote, but then it just. Went quieter. On its own. I don’t know how, or why, or what’s going on, but—All the metas we’ve seen so far have been—I mean aside from Barry, it’s been people who have hurt people, and I don’t want…” He seemed near tears.  
  
Eobard closed his eyes, hoping for a look like pity, but internally groaning. It wasn’t that much of a wonder he hadn’t pieced it together, he had never actually fought Vibe. The kid had died before his jump. Eobard had been glad of that much—by all accounts, Vibe had, on occasion, been able to do the impossible. He’d been able to disrupt the very Speed Force that governed, as far as he could tell from years of study, every speedster’s power. That was the older, more hardened, more experienced Vibe… but still the same Cisco Ramon. Loyal, good hearted, striving to see the best in people. If having Caitlin Snow stand against him had been unthinkable, unacceptable, this would be far worse.  
  
And Eobard knew, when truth came to light, what would happen.  Cisco may be loyal to Harrison Wells, but that loyalty would not extend to a time traveling murderer, no matter the justification. It wasn’t in the boy’s nature. He maneuvered the chair closer. Put a hand on the engineer’s back. “Why don’t you write down everything that’s been strange, everything that might be some kind of…power. Trust me, Cisco, you are nothing like Mardon or Nimbus. Believe that, if nothing else. I’ll be right back.”

Cisco nodded, still shaking. “Thank you. Can we…not tell Barry, yet? I think…He’s still kinda edgy, after…what I did.”

“Of course, Mr. Ramon. Your secret is safe with me.”

As Cisco started on the list, laying everything out neat and orderly, as if that would make it all make sense, Eobard left the room to make another phone call. Losing both Ramon and Snow would be a blow. He would need another pawn. Killing two birds, or rather three, with the same stone, seemed the best choice. Perhaps it was more checkers than chess. He dialed the number, a little heavy hearted, but knowing that it was better than the alternatives. He’d prefer not to get his own hands dirty, not now, not when there was an easier alternative. Pragmatism.

Cisco’s list was finished, covering three sides of paper’s worth of incidents and concerns. Eobard scanned in. Waking dreams that seemed real. Ringing in his ears. Sensitivity to sound. Manipulating sound. The same list repeated itself in a half month’s worth of anecdotes.

“I do wish you’d come to me sooner,” Eobard pulled every bit of fatherly comfort he had observed and stored away for reference from his core, every bit of Harrison that was still inside of him, who loved this child like his own son. Harrison Wells, ever the bleeding heart. Eobard usually couldn’t stand the emotions those memories forced him to share, but they had uses. He pushed a cup of water into Cisco’s hand. “Let’s see what we can figure out. Shall we?”

Cisco drank a little, smiling thankfully before launching into an explanation that gradually slowed, punctuated with moments of confusion. Eobard watched, an eye on the clock, as Cisco paused, flexed his fingers, and continued. Line by line, he went through the List, his voice becoming more slurred until his hand brushed the wheelchair, and his entire body went rigid for a heartbeat. Two. Three. And then--

“You …drugged me?”

_Damn._

Cisco fumbled for his pocket, no doubt reaching for his phone, no doubt about to call Barry. Eobard plucked the phone from his fingers, tossing it across the room.

“You always have been incredibly clever, Cisco. I’ve always said it.”

There were footsteps in the hallway, heavy with the clank of metal. Steel toed boots. Eobard shook his head as Cisco noticed, trying to get his body to cooperate without luck.

“For what it’s worth, I have enjoyed working with you,” Eobard held the still half full glass to Cisco’s lips. Cisco turned his head as much as he could, the drug dimming the fire in his gaze. Gone was the lost puppy confusion, only hurt and anger. “You should finish this. It’s for the best, I’m afraid.”

“No need for that, Wells.” General Eiling’s voice boomed. Cisco flinched, sudden adrenaline granting him some control, enough to lurch from his chair. It wasn’t enough to prevent Eiling from grabbing him by the shirt collar, jabbing a dart into his neck. His struggling and the half-way coherent cry for help cut off.

“Remember,” Eobard said firmly. “You get any of the metahumans I find for you, all of the data we have, and in return, I am in charge when it comes to the Flash. He is to be left to my studies, not yours.”

“Of course. You really have changed, doc.” Eiling smirked over his shoulder as he left.

~~

“What do you mean, they’re gone?” Barry demanded. Eobard spread his hands.

“The night you defeated Snart. Caitlin was shaken, quite badly, Mr. Allen. I think that she must have decided this was too much... She has been opening up, and I had hoped...but she's fragile, right now. The loss of Ronnie....Perhaps she will return, but she asked in her letter to be left on her own for a time. I believe she mentioned visiting—here. Canada. Ronnie’s family.”

“But why would she leave without saying goodbye? And Cisco?”

“Caitlin Snow has never had much…luck with farewells, Barry. And as for Cisco…” Eobard removed his glasses and sighed. “Barry, There wasn’t only a Cold gun.”

“What?” Barry went dead still, even his near constant fidgeting stopping.

“I found blueprints, even a prototype, in STAR Labs storage for some kind of flame thrower, among other things.  I hate to jump to conclusions, but the fact that Cisco is gone, without a note, and there were so many projects that I never approved…It seems I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

“Cisco wouldn’t…” Barry said, slowly, but Eobard saw the flicker of doubt there. In a way, perhaps it was good that the powers had manifested now, not six months down the road, too late to hide, too soon for Eobard to get home.

“If they want to return, they will, Barry. But I urge caution. You remember what Miss Smoak said, about Trust. Give them time, and perhaps Caitlin will come back to us. And perhaps Mr. Ramon will come to his senses, and earn that trust again. But it’s not something that can be...rushed. Perhaps this is for the best.”

Eobard felt the lightning in his eyes as Barry nodded slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again I REGRET NOTHING.


	30. No Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin, Barry. "you promised"  
> AU of 1x13  
> character death

Caitlin fought against the hold around her waist and shoulders as Barry ran, the wind stealing her voice, ripping the cry from her throat. All she could hear was the howl and whine that was part the wind, part the crackling lightning, part her own wail, wordless now. And then the world behind them exploded, brilliant with fire. It was brighter than any dawn or sun sinking behind the horizon, brighter than the lights that bleached out everything but the Problem when Barry lay half dead after a fight. Still, Caitlin couldn’t look away from her world going supernova.

She knew the kiss was Ronnie, but God what she would have given to hold him, not Stein in his body, to touch his hand, to tell him she loved him. To hear back the words that had hung unfinished for months and months, the final, unsaid _I love you._

Barry ran, and dimly Caitlin wondered if this was what flying felt like, until the world stopped. The sudden stillness was jolting, jarring, and even the air felt wrong. As Barry set her down, her legs gave way from under her, and her hands scrabbled at the tile. “Take me back,” she said, hoarsely, not looking up. “We have to go back, we—“

“Caitlin,” Barry crouched, then knelt, a tentative hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off. “Caitlin, there’s nothing there.”

“I don’t care.” Her voice went as hard and pointed as icicles. “I don’t care, you should have—have—“

“Left you?” Barry rocked back as if struck. “Is that what you’d have wanted? There wasn’t anything else I could do, Caitlin, I’m _sorry_ , I _tried._ ”

“I—He…Ronnie was alive,” Caitlin whispered, curling her fingers in. She looked up, her eyes rimmed red from tears that couldn’t be blamed on the rush of wind and dust. “He was alive and you said—you said we we’re going to get him back. You said we were going to bring him _home.”_

Wells almost flinched under the glare, but wheeled forward, no doubt some platitude on his lips. Caitlin didn’t give him the chance, pushing herself to her knees and then standing. “You told me, you said, that we’d bring him home, you PROMISED. You _promised_.” There was still ice like steel in her voice, but there was melting, too. Cisco looked down, rubbing one arm. The splicer should have worked. What if he’d just been there to help walk Barry through it? What if…He swallowed the doubt and guilt and reached out to Caitlin as Barry did the same. This time she shuddered, but didn’t shake them off for a long moment.

“It was supposed to be ok now,” she said, reaching up to the chain she’d started wearing around her neck, then bringing her hand down as if the silver cord and the ring it bore had burned her. “He was going to be ok, we were going to fix everything and I was …he was…”

Barry watched as she folded in on herself, as if packing away her emotions again, trying to tamp down everything like putting things back into a box. “Caitlin—“

She shook her head, her hair falling loose, her voice catching. “Someone…someone needs to tell Clarissa. And I’d like to be alone, I think.”


	31. Helping Hand pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Len Snart, "always willing to take on for the team"  
> third story about Cisco's hand

“Get. Out.” Barry snarled, zipping from his self appointed guard station to the doorway as soon as Leonard Snart neared the threshold. At the desk, tinkering slowly, Cisco flinched, instinctively curling inward to protect his good hand. His _only_ hand, for the moment.

“Relax, Scarlet,” the convict said, without his usual malice. “I didn’t come to make trouble.”

“You didn’t have to. You caused plenty without even being in the city. Now get out before I decide our deal doesn’t mean _shit_.” Barry wouldn’t have bothered to keep his voice down had Cisco not been in the room, still jittery and half afraid of his own shadow.

Snart raised his arms. “Not packing, kid. I just came to tell you…” he paused, sighed, and his eyes slid across the room to Cisco. Barry tensed, lightning in his eyes and steel in his spine. “We’re even, now.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Barry turned as Cisco demanded it, arms folded to hide his stump, carefully dressed and tended. “We knew that after that thing with your dad. You just wanted to—to show us, you can get in, is that it?”

Snart took a step back, then set his stance. “We weren’t even then. You saved my sister in payment for my saving Scarlet when the field trip went wrong, but I’d already been paid for that, if you’ll recall. I owed you. I pay my debts.” The hardness in his gaze softened, just a smidge. “I like you, kid. Said it before. Scarlet’s lucky to have someone like you on his side. You’re always willing to take one for the team. I used that. That’s what I do. I’m not sorry I did. But I am sorry what happened to you because of it.”

Cisco swallowed, hard, flexing the fingers he still had only because Barry had gotten to him in time.

Snart apparently wasn’t finished. “But you’re not my team, and you shouldn’t have had to deal with our enemies because they thought you were. So. I pay my debts, we’re even now. The Santinis won’t be a problem. _Ever. Again.”_ He turned on his heel and left, And Barry let him, watching Cisco instead.

“Cisco? You ok?”

Cisco nodded, a little shaky. “I need your help with the joints. I can’t get the leverage right to…Barry what do you think he meant? About—do you really think they won’t come after me again?”

Barry came over, picking up the indicated screwdriver with a frown of concentration. “No one is going to hurt you again, not as long as I’m breathing. They might try, but they won’t succeed, that’s all I know.”

“Uh, guys?” Caitlin poked her head into the room. “Um. So it’s on the news, but there’s gold graffiti all downtown in front of crime syndicate suspected fronts, about, um, how the guns the rogues use were made under duress and something about fighting those who started the war, not innocents. Annnnd every member of the Santinis who was arrested for what happened? Dropped dead. Poison.”

“And those suspected but not arrested?” Iris joined her. “Not any better for them. Most are in critical condition for frostbite, burns, being hit by lightning…” she ticked it off on her fingers. “My dad’s probably going to call. Maybe act surprised and don’t mention the Rogues paid a house call to STAR.”

“All of them came here? We just saw Cold…” Cisco shuddered. He really didn’t like the idea of the rogues being able to sneak in. Yeah, he’d take Cold and Glider over the Santini’s any day of the week, but still. _Better up the security._

“Just Snart, but he left a fruit –and-chocolate basket for both of us.” Caitlin held it up. “It might even have been obtained legally. Never thought I’d say it but maybe he does have a soul. Part of one. Buried way down deep. Maybe.”

“I wanna finish this first,” Cisco motioned at the robot skeleton of a prosthetic hand on the table in front of him and Barry.

Caitlin and Iris nodded as Iris’s phone started to buzz.

“It’s dad. I’ll handle this.” Iris ducked her head.

Caitlin slid into the room, joining Cisco and Barry, resting a hand on each’s shoulder. For the first time in days, Cisco didn’t flinch at the touch.

“Just remember: no lightsaber attachments.”


	32. This is the way the world ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Eobard, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."  
> AU of 1x23 because why not  
> Character death--suicide

Eddie knows he can’t let this happen. He can’t let this man who bears _his_ name kill the only friends he’s ever had, the only family he’s really known. Distant father, mother more worried about her own problems to see the bloodied noses and blackened eyes. He can’t blame them for that. Everyone makes their own choices in this life. And this choice is his.

Eobard meant to break him down, crushed pottery under his heel, with those damning words. Eddie memorized them in the hours—days?—he was alone. And he laughs, now, inwardly, mockingly. _If I mean nothing to the world, then this won’t change anything._ He can feel the gun in his hand, deceptively warm.

And he knows the last card he has to play is his finger on the trigger. But not yet. Not yet. Any other chance, he’ll take. After all, he is only twenty-six. He does not want to die. There’s still so much to do, to see, to say.

There is no clear shot at the man in yellow, just a jagged ball and streak of lightning so bright his eyes hurt, tangled with Barry. Hurting Barry. Killing Barry. Cisco and Joe  still trying to get to their feet amidst all the shattered glass and debris, the detective trying to shield the younger man from what Eddie knew was coming even as Eobard said it.

“ _Just so we're clear, after I kill you, I'm going to kill them. And then I'm going to kill your father. I always win, Flash.”_

Eddie didn’t have to see the hand pointing at Joe and Cisco, didn’t have to hear the unspoken _Iris, Caitlin, Ronnie_ included in the “them.” There was no clear shot, nothing he could do except remember Martin Stein’s words. They’d been meant as comfort, and in a way, they were.

_His great-great-great- great-grandfather, Preserve and protect your life, The only one who gets to chose his own story,_

This is his choice, the only way he can be certain, because he’ll only get one shot and that monster can catch bullets.

It’s the same gun Iris used to save them all from Tockman, and somehow that seems fitting.

The world explodes with sound and pain, his ears ringing, but he forces his eyes open to see the change that has to happen. He never did understand paradoxes and time travel but he knows that if he dies, his children, and their children, and theirs will never be. His vision is already blurring, maybe from tears, maybe that’s just how death goes, but for a heartbeat it seems wrong. Nothing has changed. Everything flickers, and nothing flickers, and the gun drops as he does.

“Eddie, No!” That’s Joe’s voice, and echoing it is Iris—he knows those footsteps.

And then he hears another voice and realizes it wasn’t just for a heartbeat. It was wrong. He was wrong.

“ _I’m still right here,_ uncle. _I’m not going anywhere.”_

Eddie can’t see anything now, just hears—feels—Iris’s hands on his face, the sound of bones shattering, a whine of lightning, screams, so many screams, cries cut short and then the rush of wind and lightning he knows had to have been there as Eobard leaves, still alive. Still fast. Unchanged except for his body count.

He’d thought he was a hero. But Eobard, his parents, even Joe, they were right.

He is the last to die in the accelerator chamber, alone, and cold, and not enough.


	33. Great and Honorable Destiny pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Anyone (literally) "I know you can hear me"  
> part two to "Eobard sells out Cisco and Caitlin to Eiling"

“I want my phone call,” Cisco managed as soon as he was awake and aware enough of the man in a fancy uniform standing over him to speak. Sitting in a hard chair with his hands cuffed behind him and his legs hobbled, he knew that this wasn’t like the times he had to pull out his birth certificate to some ICE official who wanted to make a point, but still. _Stall. Stall long enough for help to come._ But what if help didn’t come? Wells, Dr. Wells, had done this. Betrayed him, he’d seen it, the moment his hand brushed the wheelchair, an image of one of the bottles in the med-bay being dripped into a water glass, one end of a phone call to a General promising him something interesting.

Something. He was a “some _thing_.” Cisco wanted to throw up, and not just from the nausea and headache from the drug. If Wells had done this, what did that mean for a rescue? No. Barry would come. Barry was a hero, even if Cisco hadn’t really earned that trust back. Barry would find him, or Caitlin, or Felicity, maybe, if she knew.

The General held a file folder, and he smirked. “I don’t think so, Mr. Ramon. And before you start whining about rights, let me stop that right here. Three days ago, a passenger train was derailed, and I have it on good authority that you built the device that caused it. That derailment’s been classified, by the way, as a domestic terrorist attack. Meaning that under the National Defense Authorization Act of 2014, I can keep you here for as long as I damn well please, so I’d get comfy.” The man’s smile grew wider, sharper, and if possible, his eyes grew colder.

Cisco clamped his mouth shut, breathing hard through his nose, trying to keep the cold terror dripping down his back from shutting him down completely. _Stall. Stall and hold on. God, please—help._

The General slapped the file against his other hand, a sound that rang out like a shot, and Cisco flinched, jarring his wrists against the restraints. “But let’s not waste time with that, shall we? You know why you’re here.”

Cisco had a pretty good guess, and wished he’d read fewer sci-fi novels. He shook his head, and was backhanded for it. “I’m not telling you anything.” His voice was low, shaky, but determined.

“I don’t need you to.” The General plucked a sheet from the file, and Cisco recognized his own handwriting. The list. The list Wells had asked him to make. “But it would make this so much easier on everyone.”

Behind him, a door opened, and Cisco twisted to see—soldiers, men and women in uniform, holding very large looking guns, and two figures in buttoned up lab coats, wheeling a gurney. Cisco swallowed against the sandpaper that was his throat. _Oh, God, please get me out of this. Please, let Barry come, let Caitlin come, let someone come, please._

No one came. The General passed off the file to the lab coats.

~*~*~

 _Oh, God, help._ Cisco tried. He tried to keep hoping, but as it turned into days—weeks?—he didn’t _know_ how long, the dark cells and brightly lit lab rooms playing merry hell with his already shitty internal clock—hoping grew harder. It had been October, early October, did that make it—how long? Had it been two weeks? Three? Was it November, now? Was anyone out there looking?  
Had his family even noticed? Or worse, what if they had noticed, and given up on him? They wouldn’t, not that quickly. Still, in dreams that weren’t quite dreams, he could have sworn he saw his mother’s hands lighting a candle, putting it on the Dia de los Muertos alter. His mother, who refused to celebrate it the way the other Latino families in the area did, because for her, for his Colombian roots, it was less celebration and more somber. Did she think he was dead?

He almost wished he was dead. Dead would have been better than the MRI machines that blasted him with noise as they scanned, and scientists who spoke over his head like he wasn’t even there, and the way even in the quiet of a soundproofed cell he couldn’t escape the thunder of his own heart. It hurt. _He_ hurt.  
Once he had heard Caitlin’s voice, but it had only been for a moment, and the words had been muffled. She’d been screaming to be let go. Ever since then he’d listened, but they’d moved him to another room, with thicker walls, and he hadn’t heard her again. They paid him back for the black eye he’d given the guard, trying to get to her, too, and his sight had been blurry for what he thought must have been days.  
  
He knew no one was coming for him, now. He’d thought Barry would have at least come to save Caitlin. But Wells must have done something. Must have stopped him. Cisco almost hoped it was that, because the alternative was almost—almost—worse: that Barry just didn’t care. He’d only known him for a month, but they’d been friends, up until Snart had stolen the cold gun, the weapon he’d made as much to stop Barry’s man in Yellow as much as a renegade Barry. But Cisco couldn’t wish for Barry to have been hurt, or caged like him, even if it meant that Barry wasn’t coming because he just wasn’t looking. Then again, maybe Barry had come, maybe he had gotten Caitlin out, maybe… He closed his eyes, too tired to cry.  
Cisco took a moment to be grateful, because that’s what you were supposed to do when everything hurt and you wanted to be dead, right, that was what Job and Jesus and all them did, right? He was grateful that they’d only cuffed his leg, so he could wrap his arms around his knees, and that they’d fed him recently, and that at least they weren’t cutting him open. _Yet,_ supplied his brain. There wasn’t much to do between the tests and interrogations but worry.

He pulled himself into a tighter ball, ignoring the stinging pain in his left ear when it brushed against his shoulder. Trying to focus on the good things had always been his coping mechanism, but now it was less “good things” and more “the least bad of the bad things.” He rocked, on the bare floor, shivering in the thin sweats and t-shirt they’d given him, feeling so small and so alone. It was past being afraid, past being desperate. It wasn’t even hope any more, just breathing because there wasn’t anything else he could do.

“I know You can hear me,” he knew it was a whisper, but it felt like rockets. “Please, God. _A Dios Por favore._ _Let Caitlin be ok. Let Wells not have hurt Barry. Don’t let everyone forget about me. Even if no one comes. But if it’s not too much…please, just…let someone come. Anyone.”_


	34. Robado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoom and Barry, "It was never about you."  
> implied character death.

“I… do-n’t... under-stand,” Barry gasped out, trying to stand and failing. His back was whole, this time, but his legs felt wrong. It wasn’t that they hurt—and oh God did they hurt—but though he could feel them he couldn’t move. It wasn’t paralysis, he realized, trying to command himself to movie his fingers. It was simply exhaustion that he felt deeper than his bones. But he couldn’t give up, he had to do something. He was still breathing, so there had to be some way to keep Zoom distracted, long enough for—he didn’t know what. An eleventh hour miracle. “Why? You’re faster… than—,” his lungs burned, “—than any of us, so why?”

Barry didn’t expect an answer, not really. The black suited _thing_ only glowered down at him, eyes like those of a monster from story-books, insect-like, cold. Blue lightning flashed around his fingers, and Barry earned for the warmth that had vanished when his speed had been ripped away from him.

“Why do you need it, Jay’s speed, mine? Why did you need any of this—why do this, any of it?” Barry gasped out the words, refusing to stop speaking. “You already know we couldn’t fight you, so why do this? Why kill people to draw us out, why go to all this?”

**“Because I can.”**

Barry swallowed, the hand moved closer and Barry still couldn’t move, the adrenaline drained. He was going to die, he knew that with the clarity of the doomed, and was too tired to deny it.

“You’ve won,” he said, hollow, broken. There was no miracle coming, he knew that now, or if there was, it would be too late. But maybe there was a chance for the others to survive this. He knew he was beaten, and pride was pointless. “You proved it. You can defeat the Flashes, all of them. Please. Don’t hurt anyone else in the world, you don’t need to, you’ve already done what you came to do.”

**“This was never about _you_. Don’t delude yourself, _lightning bug._ You, speedsters, are simply the last lines of defense. The Knights drop, Pawns disposed of. I let you and Garrick live for a reason—to see what comes now. _Robado._ You’ve left the King unguarded.”**

Barry didn’t have time to blink or breath as Zoom vanished in a blur, racing towards STAR Labs with stolen lightning trailing behind him, blue as flame.


	35. Great and Honorable Destiny pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Cisco, "Don't come any closer"  
> Part three of "Eobard sells out Caitlin and Cisco to Eiling."

Barry pressed his hands to the door of the cell and vibrated, shattering the lock under the pressure. He had to move fast, find Stein and get out before the guards returned. The door opened at his shove, and light spilled into the dim room. As soon as Barry saw the occupant, tucked into one corner, chained by the ankles at the wall, Barry felt his hands go numb, and fought the urge to vomit.  
“Hey, I’m gonna get you out of here,” he spoke low, not bothering to vibrate his voice, stepping into the room. The captive’s head raised weakly, dark eyes hollow, and Barry gasped, feeling as though he’d been shot.  
“Cisco? Cisco Ramon? Oh—Oh my god.” Suddenly Barry thought he knew why Dr. Wells had been so adamant that he leave Ronnie and Professor Stein to their fate, that there was nothing to be done for them.

He looked nothing like the Cisco he remembered from—what, four months back?—with cropped hair and skin that seemed far too pale. Barry moved closer and Cisco— _Oh god has he been here all this time? Bette called herself one of Eiling’s labrats,_ one _of, oh god—_ flinched.

“Not real, not real, not real,” he whispered, whimpered more like, his voice reedy.

“Cisco, no, it’s me, I’m here, I’m sorry,” Barry gripped the chain near where it was stapled to the wall. Maybe he didn’t have super strength, but vibrations worked just as well to get it loose. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I—“

“Barry,” Ronnie called from outside. “I found Martin let’s—“ he came into view and froze. “You said Cisco and Cait left STAR. You—“

“I didn’t know!” Barry cried, and Cisco flinched, clapping hands over his ears. Barry closed his eyes and cursed himself. He should have looked, he shouldn’t have taken Dr. Well’s word for it, shouldn’t have believed blindly. Cisco’s wrists were scarred, and Barry had spent enough time visiting the prison and working in the police station to recognize the marks of cuffs closed too tight and left too long.

“Ronnie? You died…” Cisco whispered, but his eyes seemed clearer. Barry reached out gingerly and helped him to his feet, an arm under his shoulders to support him.

“Cisco, is Caitlin here?” Ronnie asked, noting the lower volume and pitching his voice lower.

“You came?” Cisco asked. “You came before but it was never…” then he blinked. “I don’t know where, but—he has her. I saw it. She’s cold.”

Ronnie extended a hand. “Barry, please, she’s—“

“I know. Let me get you both out, I’ll come back, I swear. I can’t carry three.” Barry’s eyes were wide, and he was sweating. How much time before the EMP blast wore off, before someone found the knocked out guards? Stein and Caitlin—oh, god, Caitlin, Cisco, it had been four months. _You came before—_ had Cisco hallucinated a rescue? Or just dreamed one, while he thought the engineer was living off the grid, building tech for people like Mick Rory and Hartley Rathaway? How had he ever believed it?

“No, I’m not leaving her,” Ronnie insisted. “When we find Stein, we can merge again, and fly out. There’s no time.”

Barry nodded, heart racing. With Ronnie supporting Cisco, his skin ashen in the hallway lighting, Barry took off, breaking down every door in the hallway. Stein was in a cell much like Ronnie’s had been, shackled to a chair, his shirt burned through in places—some kind of cattle prod, if Barry had to guess. In seconds he had helped the older man free, racing him out of the cell and moving on to the next door.

At the far end of the hall, he found Caitlin. The door was covered in ice.

“We need Firestorm,” he hissed. Ronnie didn’t dare leave Cisco behind, though he was still hobbled at the ankles. It didn’t take much effort to carry him, or to reach the end of the hallway.

“Professor, we have to—“

“I know, Ronald.” Stein reached forward, and Barry watched as they merged, fire streaming around them. At the light display, Cisco seemed to grow more coherent, as if something had clicked into place.

“It was real? I saw you. Under a bridge.”

“No time for that,” Stein said in Ronnie’s voice, but gently. “But later, I’d like to understand that.”

The room was like a freezer, and as soon as Barry stepped inside he felt his speed bleeding off, trying to keep him warm. Caitlin huddled in the farthest corner, her hair pale, as if muted by moonlight. At the sound of the door crashing open, she flinched.

“Don’t come any closer,” she rasped, wild eyed, and then, “Oh god, I’m dead, they killed me, oh, god, no, you’re dead.”

“Caitlin, it’s—me. Ronnie. We’re getting you out of here.” Firestorm reached out, and there was a hiss like steam.

“Warm,” she whispered, and Firestorm, hands glowing, shattered the ice covered chains and lifted her. She sighed, a broken sob escaping, hiding her face against his arm like a bird with a broken wing.

“Take Cisco,” Firestorm told Barry. “We get out, _now.”_

They made it to the ground floor before Eiling stopped them, one of the spike grenades in his hand. Barry knew he could take out the snipers if he left Cisco, but the moment he moved, Eiling’d use the grenade, and then what would happen? He’d failed them all before, his teammates, his—how could he call them friends when he’d left them to this?

“Stand down, all of you.” Eiling shook his head at them, as if they were naughty children trying to play hooky.

“Nah.” It had to have been Ronnie speaking as Firestorm shifted a hand from around Caitlin’s shoulders and hurled a fireball that was roughly the size of a Buick at the general, then another at the wall. “C’mon, Move!”

Barry ran, Cisco clinging to him like a wet kitten to a warm brick, Firestorm flying after them through the gap. They didn’t stop for miles, and when at last they did, miles from anything and anyone. In the near total darkness, Barry sank to his knees, sobbing, dry-heaving.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—“

“Didn’t know?” Cisco asked, clearing his throat. “But—you came. You came.”

“Not soon enough.”


	36. All that Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westhallen, "Please be ok"

 “Barry, oh, God, please be ok,” Iris waited only until the man in yellow—Wells—Thawne looked mostly passed out, crashed into the hood of Eddie’s car with several of Ray palmer’s magic arrow-dart things jabbed into him. At the first hint of safety, even unassured, she bolted towards where Barry lay, breathing hard. His fingers twitched as she reached him, Eddie hot on her heels.

“’Ris? ‘Ddie?” Barry winced, pulling himself up.

“Bar, stay, let Caitlin check you out. Oliver and Firestorm are moving that…that _thing_ to the holding cells.” Eddie choked on the word, putting a hand on Barry’s arm as if to assure himself that Barry wouldn’t vanish on them.

Iris shook her hair from her face as she leaned over, half crying with relief. There had been so goddamn many close calls in the last year and a half, in the last _week_ and a half. “Are you ok?” she repeated again, knowing it was a stupid question. She’d seen him get pummeled, get thrown around, and healing factor or no there was only so much a body could take before “ok” stopped being a thing.

But Barry only grabbed at her hand, and at Eddie’s, and blinked. “You didn’t get hurt, did you? I had to save Ronnie, an’ Professor…did he get you?”

“No, we’re fine,” Eddie assured him, squeezing his hand.

“We’re fine, we’re right here and we’re fine.” Iris promised.

“Then I’m ok.” Barry moved to sit up again.

“You _dork.”_ Eddie bit his lip, but smiled. Maybe things really would be ok. Maybe they’d won, after all, after everything.

Barry’s bruises had already healed by the time Caitlin reached the trio


	37. A Familiar Face pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Joe, "I'm so sorry" and "Don't trust me."

“Joe, I’m…I’m so sorry.” Cisco’s eyes were still huge with fear, the vision so fresh in his mind. He’d seen Joe angry before, seen Joe furious, even, and he knew Joe had killed in his time as a detective, he’d seen the man shoot Everyman as Wells. But Zoom, and Zoom’s anger, the snarl twisting his features, that lack of anything remotely like warmth or humor or compassion or a  soul in his eyes, that was…. Cisco dry heaved again.  
For a long moment, everyone looked at everyone but Cisco and Joe, trying to make sense of the revelation. It was Joe himself who broke the silence.

“Don’t be sorry, kid. We have an edge now. We know something now, something that thing doesn’t know we know. That helps, doesn’t it?”

“Well, you’re taking the fact that there is a mass murderer wearing your face remarkably well.” Harry said. “No Joe West in my world, not that I know of, but then, I hardly know everyone.”

Joe scratched the side of his head. “Right, well. I’m going to go tell Captain Singh. He needs to know that I’m not to be trusted. Goes for all of you, too.”

“Dad,” Iris gasped out.

“Joe, Zoom isn’t you.” Cisco ground out. “It’s not. Just like Harry’s not Wellsobard, and Linda’s not Light. Just because he’s comic-book-supervillain level evil doesn’t mean we don’t trust you!”

“Cisco, I appreciate it, but it’s not about me. Do Not trust me. That wackjob has my face, he might have my fingerprints, my DNA…and I’ll be damned if he gets to use any of that to hurt you, any of you. Now. How’re we gonna use the fact that tall, dark, and asshole looks like me to finish him off? Because I for one would like to not have to spend the rest of my life hiding because the world thinks I run around at 900 miles per hour and kill people.”

“He was faster than that,” Harry said.

“Not helping,” Cisco frowned. “Barry’s DNA changed when he was affected. That might be something. And maybe, now that we know who….”

“We can figure out why, the real why.” Barry nodded. “Jay could go home and do some digging?”

“You kids do that. I’ve got to go tell my boss and…Patty to be on lookout for,” he waved a hand “Mass murderer me. Thank god we already proved Bates and his powers existed. Don’t wait up.”  
Joe left, pulling his coat tighter around him.


	38. Changing the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Iris, " you have to remember"

“Eddie, you have to listen to me,” Iris said. “When Barry goes back, when he does this….Things are going to change. We met by…by co-incidence, and if this doesn’t happen, the particle accelerator, Barry’s coma….then we might not…”

“I know,” Eddie tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace. “I may not understand most of this, but I’m not…I’m not stupid. Changing the past changes the future, too.”

“You’re…you’re ok with it?” Iris whispered, drawing Eddie closer and her voice lower, edging away from Caitlin and Cisco and the others crowding around the computers.

“It wouldn’t really matter if I was or not, would it?” Eddie gave a short laugh, but then stopped himself. “I can’t say I don’t want an innocent woman, a murdered woman, to have a second chance. I can’t say I don’t want any kid to have a shot at not being traumatized and ostracized his whole life. Barry’s a good guy. He never saw me as my last name–not for who my parents are, not for…well, you know. And yeah, we had our differences and still do, but…It’s his life, it’s his choice. This isn’t about what I want. It never has been.”

“Eddie,” Iris reached out, and he didn’t flinch away, or shrug her off. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s ok. I just want you do be happy. Even if I’m not in your life. I want you to be happy. So, even if everything changes, if you never meet me, if none of this,” he motioned to the space around them, to them, to the ring in his palm, “happens. Just try to remember that. You have to remember that.”

Iris took the ring, and kissed him. “I will. But you, too.  I know this hasn’t been fair, not to you, or to Barry, or to anyone. But I do love you, Eddie. And I hope we do meet again.” 

 


	39. A Father's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Cisco, "you have to remember"

“You saw my daughter.” Harry didn’t ask, and Cisco nodded, standing up. It still felt very disconcerting to be sitting while Wells—Harry—stood. Cisco didn’t like it. Even though he knew this Wells didn’t have superspeed, this Wells had still used his worst trauma against him, and that was enough to put the engineer on edge. Even if he understood why. If Zoom had taken Dante, or even his parents…

Cisco rubbed his hands on his pants, nervous. He hoped Harry wasn’t going to ask—

“What did you see?”

How was Cisco supposed to say he’d seen Jesse screaming, sobbing, desperately defiant and afraid? How was he supposed to say he’d seen Zoom hurt her?

“She’s alive,” Cisco offered, hoping the repeated reassurance would be enough. He didn’t think he could handle having to tell another father how badly their child was hurt, even though Caitlin had done most of the talking to Joe. Barry still wasn’t awake.

“You said that. I need to know everything.”

Cisco shook his head, a little too emphatically. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t remember. They’re very blurry and—“

“Please. You have to remember. Or—or do it again.” Harry held out his jacket. Cisco winced. Harry had never said “please,” and Awful!Wells had rarely said it either, not genuinely.

“I’m sorry, I…” Cisco didn’t move to take the jacket, afraid of what he might see. The vision had cut out so early last time, and Zoom had to be pissed that they’d managed to fight him off, even a little.

“Ramon. I need to know what’s happening to my daughter. She’s all I have, and everything he does to her is my fault. So I’m asking again. What did you see?”

Cisco’s mouth went dry, and he closed his eyes, trying to recall the images. “It’s dark. The lighting’s always …bluish, blurry. She’s—She’s in a cage or something. Bars. She’s been fighting at the rope. She hasn’t given up. He asked her why you came here. She didn’t know. He… he hurt her. He thinks she’s lying, I—I don’t know, I didn’t see anything after that.” He couldn’t look Harry in the face. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. For telling me. Seeing things like that…I’ve imagined so many horrible things, but to know it’s real…it must be. Hard.” The thickness in Harry’s voice betrayed the false composure. “If you see anything else, tell me. I have to get back to perfecting the serum.”

He left without another word, but the edge of the jacket brushed Cisco’s hand as he pushed past, and again, Cisco’s world went blue.


	40. Vibrato pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Barry, Zoom, " Please listen to me."

Cisco took a deep breath, then picked up the tiny fragment of carbon fiber and tri-polymer—not his own creation, but far too similar for comfort. It had been good that Zoom had slowed Barry’s healing, or the tip of the claw might still be inside him, broken off when Cisco’d hit Zoom with a dart. As it was, Caitlin had gotten the fragment out of Barry’s chest before he’d healed over it, and gross as that was, it made for a useful way to keep tabs on Zoom.

Already, Cisco’s vibes had helped them stop three metahuman attacks, Barry arriving within seconds of Zoom dropping them off and taking advantage of their confusion to send them right back. Cisco had to admit, it felt good, being that useful, being really helpful. It almost made up for how terrible he felt when he vibed, cold and paralyzed, feeling Zoom’s presence. It almost made up for the helplessness he knew they all felt in their failure to find and rescue Jesse.

 For the space of a breath, the fragment glinted black and lay, almost innocuous, in his bare hand. And then the blue light filled his vision, flashing like lenses glare and obscuring the room until his eyes adjusted.

It was a scene he’d seen before, a dimly lit room that had to be Zoom’s home base, but a different section. No Jesse, no prison cell. Cisco strained his ears, hoping to learn more of Zoom’s plan, or backstory, or something, anything that could be useful. There was that constant ringing blur in his ears that accompanied every vision, but then words, muted, back-scored by that awful hum. **“…know you see me….”**

Cisco jolted, dropping the claw and skidding backwards, back in the relative safety of Star Labs.

“What did you see?” Barry asked, trying to make it less obvious he still needed the cane.

Cisco shook his head. “I’m…I’m not sure. But—“

The computer shrilled an alert, another breach being used. Another Metahuman quite possibly about to go on a rampage. Barry sucked in a breath, then leaned the cane against the cortex desk.

“Barry, be careful, you’re still weak.” Caitlin tried to smooth the worry-crease in her forehead with a confident smile, but it seemed forced.

“I’ll be fine.”

He took off running, lightning crackling behind him.

~~

“Stop,” Barry’s voice echoed over the com. Caitlin kept a hawk’s eye on his vitals, but they seemed to be normal. “Please, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. I know Zoom promised to take you home if you killed me, but—We can send you home too. My team.”

There were no visuals, but the Meta’s voice came through clear. “Kill you? He didn’t send me here to Kill you, Flash. He sent me here to _distract_ you.”

Barry’s heartrate spiked on the screen as the doors to the cortex _shattered._

Cisco’s head ached with the resonating hum that filled the room--that filled his _bones—_ as Zoom burst into the room like a bruise, black and blue. There was no time to back away, no time for Harry to grab the dart gun, or for Joe draw his service pistol, no time for Caitlin to scream a warning, or for Iris to notice as Barry’s vitals all spiked and the suit monitors send red alerts about broken bones.

Zoom’s gloved hand, dark and clawed like a demon thing, closed around Cisco’s wrist, pale lightning skittering, burning, as the other arm swept up and around lifting him off the ground and pinning him in the same movement. The world blurred, Blue like the vibes, but not like them exactly, as Zoom ran and Cisco fought to breathe, unable even to struggle against the tightness of the grip and the force of the sheer speed.

The portal loomed, Cisco knew that, knew without seeing, and going through it only took a heartbeat but it was a heartbeat too long. He had expected flame, but it felt instead closer to passing through thin sheet of wind going across, not against-- pressure, cold, and then…nothing.

Until Zoom dropped him and he landed in a heap on a floor he recognized from too many vibes. Cisco swallowed hard, willing his legs to behave and let him stand and failing miserably. His hands shook, his whole body trembled with terror. There was nowhere to run, not from something that was faster than Barry.

The black clad speedster loomed over him, the hideous mask patterned with a monster’s sadistic grin, all spite and cruelty and teeth. The moment stretched out, longer and longer, a rubberband waiting to snap. Any second now, Cisco knew he’d be dead, alone and dead on a cold floor, just like the Before that hadn’t happened.

Zoom only watched him, insect eyes calculating. Cisco’s chest heaved.  
“Just kill me already,” he panted, the fear and dread clenching at his heart like a fist. He squeezed his eyes shut, the words to prayers running out of his head like water in a busted barrel.  
  
“ **No.”**

Cisco’s whole body jerked in surprise, and he regained enough control to scramble backwards an inch or two before Zoom’s foot caught his chest, pinning him again.

**“I have other plans. You…you will be _useful.”_**


	41. Vibrato pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoom, Cisco, Jesse, " Always willing to take one for the team"  
> Follow up to "Zoom knows Cisco's spying on him and kidnaps him"

Cisco couldn’t breathe, staring up at Zoom, his heart racing. Too many horrible thoughts came to mind. _Useful_. As what? Bait? Cisco doubted that, Zoom already had Jesse, Zoom could have taken Iris. A hostage was more likely, but still. Worse still was the third option, that his use was not passive. Zoom had to know about them, about who Barry was, but what if he wanted information? In his last vibe, Zoom had—Zoom had known. What if he wanted Cisco to tell him their plans, not that they had many? What if he wanted to know their weaknesses? Cisco fought to keep his breathing steady and failed, panic pulsing in his blood. He’d already betrayed Barry once, he wouldn’t again, _couldn’t_ again.  
Somehow he doubted Zoom would give him much of a choice.

One hand reached down to grab him, those empty eyes glinting in the dim light. Cisco threw up both hands in a desperate attempt to protect himself, even knowing it was useless. What good were visions to defend against something like this? He couldn’t even fight regular villains without help.  
When Cisco was six he’d broken his arm falling from a tree, where he’d been watching a hummingbird build a nest. He remembered the way the bone had clicked into place when the doctor set it, a moment of white hot pain but the sense of something put right. When he was seven, he’d been allowed to quit piano if he promised to learn another instrument. He’d been drawn to the harp—all the different strings, vibrating at different wavelengths based on thickness and where they were plucked, but harps were expensive, so he chose the guitar, which was “cooler” anyway. He remembered the pulsing of the wire strings against his fingertips, the callouses they left, the way the sound seemed almost to come from his own hands.  
Both feelings he felt now as something burst forth, a shockwave ripping through outstretched hands. Zoom fell backwards, no, Zoom was _flung_ backwards, and Cisco didn’t allow the shock to stop his scramble upright. Miracles could be questioned later.

He ran, knowing full well it was pointless, but nothing grabbed him from behind. Zoom didn’t appear in front of him, crackling with lightning, and even though he could hear his heart beating too loudly in his ears, the pumping of his blood, the harsh echo of his breath, that was all Cisco heard. The terrible, bassline humming that had always accompanied Zoom was gone.  
  
_Don’t question it just be glad and run._ Cisco had never been a fast runner, not exactly, though he could have broken Barry’s pre-powers “records.” Still, there was nothing quite like running for one’s life down badly lit corridors and hoping for a door that led outside. Not that getting outside would be that much better, Zoom could still catch him…except Zoom hadn’t, yet.  
  
Down another hallway, he found himself in a very, very familiar room. Sickeningly familiar. Cage bars ran across part of it, and inside…  
“Jesse?” he asked, whirling around, searching frantically. ‘Run’ was no longer priority. He couldn’t live with knowing he’d left her here, and he wouldn’t die abandoning her either. Maybe Zoom was just toying with him, but maybe they had a chance. “Never spit on God’s miracles,” his Abuela had told him sternly. _Don’t question the gift, just accept it._ There was no lock, no door, but there had to be a way to get her out.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, wary, as he found a control panel and peered at the wires.

“Long story. Short version, your dad’s working with me and my friends to stop Zoom, er—tall, dark, and asshole. Aha!” Something released and the bars parted. Cisco gripped a sawedged hairclip and started fumbling at the ropes binding her hands.

“Who are you?” she asked, and then suddenly frantic, “He’s here, I heard him come back, he’ll kill you, how did you even—“

“Questions maybe later,” the cord frayed and snapped.  Cisco moved to her other side. “He kinda brought me here and would have killed me already, but I for one don’t wanna stick around to find out those plans. I think we should go now. Can you walk?”

She could, barely, and they limped along, her arm thrown around his shoulder, made easier in that they were of similar height.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” he asked as they turned.

“Um. No?”

“Me either, but that way look promising.” He nodded toward it, picking up speed as Jesse got used to moving again.

His hope was right, there was a ladder, hopefully that led up and out.

  
Behind him, there came a sound like static.  Cisco turned, pushing Jesse behind him, toward the ladder.  They’d made it this far. Maybe he could bargain. If Zoom wanted secrets, he’d get them, Cisco knew that. He wasn’t strong enough. Maybe he could last a little while, but—maybe he could at least get Jesse out.

 **“Ever the little hero. Always willing to take one for the team.”** The blue lightning sparked as Zoom laughed. The sound was like ice in Cisco’s spine, catching the breath in his lungs. What had he done before, it had to have been something. He couldn’t just let Zoom win, not if he could do something, anything, no matter how small, how hopeless. He clenched his fists, then let them go loose.

“Sounds about right,” Cisco swallowed, an impossibly loud sound in his ears. Zoom lunged. Cisco saw it in the lightning, and he raised his hands, palms open, fingertips stinging, singing. The air rippled; the world roared, and somewhere in the space of noise and silence, Cisco felt that hum, Zoom’s vibration, one chord that stood out. He reached for it without reaching, and pulled, twisted.  
It was like the snap of a guitar string, one sharp moment of pressure before giving way. Zoom dropped. The lightning faded.

“How…”Jesse breathed, eyes wide. He could hear her breathing, as quick and panicked as his own.

“I’m Vibe, Metahuman. I can apparently do…whatever that was. C’mon.”

 


	42. A Friend in need (of Ice cream)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin and Cisco " You don't have to stay"  
> set after 1x10  
> no death, actually happy

“Do you need anything else?” Cisco asked. Caitlin shook her head.

“No, I’m fine, really.”

“You know, you are the worst liar. Barry lies better than you.” Cisco rolled his eyes. “You almost got blown up, Caitlin. No one’s gonna judge you for not being ‘fine.’”

Caitlin huffed, tugging her blanket a little closer and wishing her couch didn’t suck so much. Older and lumpy, she’d been planning on donating it to science when she and Ronnie got married. Science in this case meaning utter destruction at the hands of STAR Labs. “I am…” she trailed off. “Salted caramel ice cream? I think there’s some in the freezer….”

“It’ll taste better on mug brownies,” Cisco said quickly, crossing to the kitchen and searching through the cupboard. “And trust me, I make the best mug brownies. Or mug cookies, or mug cake, you lean things when you move to your first apartment and forget to buy frying pans and baking pans, and no way was I going to admit that to Mama.”

Caitlin protested, “Cisco, you don’t have to stay, you don’t need to—“

“Yes, I do,” he said, cracking an egg. “You’re telling me you want to be alone, after…” he stopped, suddenly going tense. Caitlin craned her neck to see, wincing at how sore she felt. He shoved the mug into her microwave, and turned, leaning his back against the counter. “You could have gotten hurt. Because of something I built. Let me do this? For you?”

She blinked. “It’s not your fault. Snart and Rory, it wasn’t your fault. You really don’t need to—to prove anything, or make up for anythi—“

He shook his head. “That’s not the only reason I’m here, Cait—lin. Caitlin. I was worried. I just…you know. Wanna make sure you’re ok. You don’t always tell people when things are bad, so, I figured…Someone should be there for you. In case.”

“Oh.” Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by the microwave’s annoying chirp, and Cisco dumping a massive scoop of ice cream into the top. He shoved the mug into her hands, and she savored the warmth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now budge over, and let’s see what’s on Netflix.”


	43. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Eddie, "I'm coming just sit tight"

Three days. It had been three days since Eobard had taken Eddie from the bridge, three days since Barry had slept. It was only Cisco’s calorie bars and enough coffee to support an entire undergrad program during finals week that kept him awake now. Barry took it block by block, staggering against doorframes to get his balance before tearing through office buildings and apartment basements, abandoned warehouses, anywhere that might be a villain’s secret lair. He searched sewer systems and empty tunnels under storefronts owned by fronts for the Santini’s, the Darbinyan’s, the Irish mob. He turned Wellobard’s creepy museum of a house upside down, and found six secret rooms, all empty. Well, not empty, there were books and papers, but empty of anything that mattered.  
Eddie was still missing.  
No, not missing. Kidnapped.  
And it was all his fault. If he’d been more careful, watched better, picked up on Well’s schemes earlier…if he’d been a better fighter. If he’d been faster.  
It always came down to that.  
  
Barry skidded to a stop down an alleyway, another building searched through with the same results. His shoes were smoldering, but he hardly noticed. It didn’t matter. They didn’t have time to waste.  
“Barry, can you hear me?” Cisco’s voice buzzed in the earpiece he’d turned off. He thought he’d turned it off, anyway. “Barry, you need to—“ Barry turned it off again. He couldn’t take Cisco joining Joe and Caitlin in the endless lecturing, that he was no good to Eddie exhausted.  
 He wouldn’t be any good to Eddie when he wasn’t looking, either. Or if Eddie got killed before he could get him away from Wells. Wells had killed Cisco in another timeline, and he’d _liked_ Cisco. What was to keep him from hurting Eddie?  
“I’m coming,” he muttered, putting out the fire in his shoes and heading for the next building. “Just sit tight, wherever you are.”


	44. Broken Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackvibe, " Always willing to take one for the team"  
> No character death

Laurel winced as Cisco wrapped another layer of gauze around her shoulder, carefully keeping his eyes on the bandaging and the wound.  
“You know, they say it’s a good thing, ‘always willing to take one for the team’ and all, but I’m not sure that’s meant to be taken literally. Seriously, you could have been killed.”  
  
“Cisco, I’m fine. I’ve had worse, it’s just a graze.”  
  
“Nah, graze doesn’t mean that the resident superhero physician needs to pull a bullet out of your shoulder while you refuse pain meds.” Cisco said, taping the end of the roll into place. Caitlin had been clear about how often to change the dressing.  
  
“You know I don’t like my head to go all fuzzy. It didn’t hurt that much. Just a flesh wound.” Laurel smiled, but it was wobbly.

“Quoting Monty Python at me, Lance? You realize you’re the Black Canary, not the Black Knight? I’d laugh, I would, and we should have a movie night, thanks for that opening, but—you could have lost your arm. I would have been fine, really, I-“

“Would have been dead.” She cut him off. “I’ve lost too many people, Cisco. He was going to shoot you. I couldn’t just…not do something. But you’re ok, and I’m ok. So let’s skip the lecture, I’m going to hear it enough from Oliver, and Dad, and—ugh, literally everyone else as soon as they figure out where I am. I knew what I was doing, it wasn’t just some impulsive, thoughtless, thing that I through myself into headfirst because I—“

“We’re not talking about the guy with the gun anymore, are we?” Cisco sat on the arm of the couch. “This is about everything?”

“Yeah, I...I guess. No one really…thought I could do it, really, and now every time something happens…I just want to help. I want to protect the people I love.”

Cisco flushed a little, then cleared his throat. “You’re doing really, really well. I mean, I—I know you’re—thank you. For, y’know. Yesterday. I probably would be…not, _dead_ , dead, but…I guess I kinda know how that goes. Needing to prove something, to the world. To family. To team. But next time, how about no almost bleeding out in my arms? I think the internet would frown upon one of the most badass heroines in the world dying so some average Jose can try to avenge her. Way too cliché.” Cisco hoped the genuine dread that situation filled him with was masked by the casualness. Laurel nodded, an easier smile on her lips but that same dark worry in her eyes.

“Deal,” she held out her uninjured hand to shake. Cisco gave her a fistbump instead. 


	45. Dear Past Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and younger Cisco, "Don't listen to them, don't you ever listen to them"

_Dear Past Me._

No. That’s stupid. Cisco crossed it out, and started again. _Dear Younger Cisco._ No. Patronizing.  
_Paco,_ That was better. He never used that nickname anymore.  
_Paco, if you’re reading this, then you probably think it’s crazy. And I don’t remember reading it now, so that means I’m probably screwing up the timeline, but you know what? Don’t worry about that. I’m you, and it’s 2015, so you do the math. I can wait. (We’re 23!)_  
I’m not gonna lie to you, like Tia Delores or Abuela—they don’t mean it so please don’t yell at them over Christmas, it’s not gonna go well. The bullies, they aren’t really jealous. Dante is though, so rub that in while you can. I’m not gonna tell you Mama and Papi suddenly understand, or care as much about me—you—us—as they do Dante. It sucks. Still does.  
But things get better, for real. Keep studying what you want. Don’t worry about what Dante says, or any of that. It’s a not easy, and it won’t be easy, but keep at it. Do what makes you happy, and…Right now, I can’t regret any of it, except stopping the guitar lessons, some. Chicks dig the guitar. You know you’re only gonna quit to spite Mama, so…maybe don’t. But hey, it’s your life as much as it was mine, so…whatever.  
I don’t know when you’ll be reading this, if I do send it, and it does get delivered. So I don’t know what you’ve gone through. But people are proud of us. Right now. There are people we’ve helped. Our tech. our projects. So keep at it. Build whatever it is you’ve got stashed under the bed—unless you’ve taken over the loft in the garage already. Speaking of, you should do that, seriously, it’s not gonna be a craft room.  
Look, it’s not—going to be better tomorrow, or the next day, and they always make you think Better is just out of reach, but I promise you. It’s there. We have friends now, really great friends. Not like Jake—or Manny—or Delia. Good friends. Can’t tell you who they are, but believe me, they’re the kind you’d die for. The kind that would do the same for you me, us. I know it’s dumb, what is this, one more worthless promise, but it’s for true. We’ve got it pretty good right now. Scary, yeah. Hard, still. But worth it.   
So just—keep doing what you’re doing, Paquito. The bullies, the teachers who say we’ll never amount to anything, Dante, Mama, Papi, Don’t you listen to them. Don’t you ever listen to them when they tell you not to follow your heart. Cuz it’s leading you somewhere pretty freaking cool.  
From,   
You in the future.  
PS Don’t waste anger on Melinda. When in doubt, blame Dante. Remember, you’re so much cooler than he is in the future. Legit. Also, might wanna consider keeping Mama’s craft stuff. Sewing is actually pretty useful.


	46. Radio Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackvibe, "Just be careful"

“Laurel, it’s been fifteen minutes. You have to go.” Cisco hissed into the com, hating the situation hating the words. But Oliver had been clear, Barry had been firm. Stubborn idiots. He was on coms, Laurel was get-away driver, and the ten minutes Barry and Oliver had set as a time limit had slipped by. If they weren’t out with Felicity, Thea, and Joe by now, Laurel was supposed to get the hell out of dodge and they were supposed to come up with a new plan. A new plan of rescue, with just them left, unless Caitlin had really managed to track down Ronnie on Earth 2, or Ray and Firestorm and Kendra returned from their time travel adventures, or they got some other miracle.   
“No, I’m not leaving, I—I can’t.” Laurel shook her head, he could tell by the swish of hair against the com in her ear. “I’m going to go in. Maybe there’s just been a delay, maybe—“

“Laurel, please—“ Cisco stopped. It was one thing for him, a hundred miles away, he couldn’t help, just monitor what he could of the compound, which wasn’t much. But she was there, staring at the doors that her team had gone through. Cisco clenched a fist in his hair, trying to think. “Just…promise me. Just be careful.”

“As you wish,” Laurel’s voice was heavy, but there was a smile in it.

“Does this mean I’m Princess Buttercup? Look, I’ve only got cameras in the first hallway, and you’ll have to turn off the earbud so the signal doesn’t get picked up.” Cisco warned. “Hallway’s clear—now. Go.”

Fifteen minutes was an eternity to a speedster. It felt an eternity now to Cisco, seconds of silence ticking by, as he tried to get into the other cameras, radio frequencies, anything. He was good, a match for Felicity in some areas, but the maze before him on the monitors was like Gideon, it might take weeks to uncover. They hadn’t had weeks. They hadn’t had days. Maybe they didn’t even have minutes.  
He refused to believe that. Just because the Vitals on Barry’s suit had stopped transmitting didn’t mean all was lost. Just because it had been thirty three minutes for something that should have taken less than two didn’t mean…  
Thirty four minutes.  
Thirty four and a half.  
There was a crackle of static in his ear.   
“Cisco?” Laurel’s voice, ragged and exhausted and alive.   
“Gracias a Dios, you’re not dead. Is everyone--?”  
“Also not dead. We’re coming home.”


	47. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Joe, Iris, "Don't touch me"

“Oh, God, Barry? Are you all right?” A woman’s voice, one that just edged on familiarity, but—no. He didn’t know it. Couldn’t. He flinched, pulled his arms in closer. “Oh, oh my God, it’s you, it’s ok, I’m here now. Dad’s coming.” She reached out, he felt her reach out without opening his eyes and knowing. A cool, dry hand landed on his arm, and instinct took over.

He was halfway across the cell—no, room, it was a room, bigger, brighter, warmer—in seconds, surprised by the way no one had stopped him, but glad for it. He had to get _away_.  
  
“Barry, whatever happened to you, it’s over. You’re safe.” She kept saying his name, like he knew her, or something. But that wasn’t right, was it? He peeked at her from the corner he’d hunkered down in, knobby knees up like a barrier. She was beautiful. Bright. She didn’t look like anything he remembered, there was nothing lifeless, nothing pale about her rich skin, her dark eyes that were filled with…worry. Not anger.  
It had to be a trick.   
  
The door creaked open, and another not-quite familiar figure entered, broad shouldered, the same coal-dark eyes, the same not-anger in them. He flinched anyway, and swallowed hard. The movement hurt, his throat was too dry.

“Son?” The man’s voice was rough edges softened. He moved to quickly, not seeing the woman’s headshake, and stretched out a hand.

“Don’t touch me,” Barry ground out. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t, I—Please.” What little color there was drained from his face, his eyes fastened now on the handle of the service pistol in the man’s holster. “I’m sorry for shouting, please don’t hurt me.”  
The man drew back, then crouched down a few feet away.

“We’re not going to hurt you, Barry.” The woman looked like she might cry. “I promise. It’s me, it’s Iris, Iris and Joe. We’re—family. See?” She slid something across the floor, but it didn’t reach. The man, Joe, pushed it further, and Barry hesitated, then snatched at it.  
The paper crumpled in his hand, but it was a photograph. Three people. The man, the woman and—was that him? He couldn’t remember. Maybe it was. He thought it might be, as he reached up to rub his ear, his nose, searching for familiarity.

Iris had slipped a little closer, and very gingerly, almost achingly slowly, she pointed at the photo, close enough almost to touch, but not daring too. “We took that three years ago. At the park. You thought Dad was silly for still using a film camera, and then it started to—“

“Rain.” Barry finished, as if unsure of where the word had come from. Without a word, he shifted, just enough that his arm, not much more than skin over bone, brushed against her fingers.  
That would have to be enough of a start.


	48. Great and Honorable Destiny pt 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Cisco, Caitlin, "This is all my fault."

“What do we do now?” Martin Stein asked, Caitlin and Ronnie gripping each other tightly as if nothing else in the world mattered. Barry took a moment to be glad that Ronnie apparently still had the fever-heat, because Caitlin still felt like ice.

“I don’t know,” Barry admitted, looking around shakily. It was so very dark.. “I don’t think we can go back. Dr. Wells—“

“He’s the yellow man.” Cisco whispered, sitting again. His legs were not strong enough to support him, and he leaned against a stone. “I know what I saw. He told General about me. And Cait.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Ronnie said cheerfully, pressing another kiss to Caitlin’s temple.

Caitlin grimaced, but leaned into the touch, sure now of the warmth, the way it didn’t hurt. here eyes were softer now, after too long hard as glaciers. “I’ll help.” The ice in her voice melted, some. “I thought you were dead. And I thought—If he’d sold me out, I worried you were dead, too, all of you. Everyone.”

Barry felt his heart shatter. “I’m so sorry, I never should have—he said you left, and I—wait. The yellow man—the man in yellow, you mean? He’s the man who killed my mother. He’s–”  
“I see things. Saw things,” Cisco’s voice was still so thin and weak. “Saw him, and…Ronnie. Fighting.”

“At Chanukkah,” Martin said, nodding. “We fought him then. In a manner of speaking.”  
Cisco blinked, folding his fingers around bare feet. There was no snow, but it was still mid-February, and cold out. Barry’s mind raced.

“We can’t go back. I know a place where we might be safe, though, or–where you will be. Ronnie, Professor, think you can keep up?”

“There aren’t any other options but to, Mr. Allen,” Martin extended a hand to Ronnie. “Once more into the breach?”

~~

“Barry, what are you doing here, who are all these people, are you–oh, my God.” Felicity cut herself off. “You’re Martin Stein, the missing professor, and–Cisco? Caitlin?”

“Felicity, I can explain,” Barry said weakly.

“No, that can wait, they’re half dead, thank God we have a microwave and I keep canned stuff here for when SOMEONE forgets to eat, Barry, find some pillows or something. Do we have extra cots? I don’t know, I think we might, crap, I don’t–”  
Cisco shrank as her voice grew louder, and she stopped when she saw him clamping hands over his ears.

“Sorry,” she said, in almost a whisper, still looking around frantically as Barry put together some makeshift cots with tables, chairs, and blankets that looked like they’d been in storage for years. Caitlin was far more at ease sitting on the edge, drinking corn chowder out of a mug because they didn’t have enough bowls to go around. Cisco refused wordlessly, and no one pressed. Felicity fussed over all of them, and then over Oliver when he returned from patrol, cutting off his questions with hurried explanation. Barry slipped over, leaving Martin and Ronnie with Cisco and Caitlin.

“They can’t go back to STAR, or to Central City.” Felicity said, her voice firm. “If Wells finds out, Oliver, he gave them to…”

“General Eiling. It’s on the news. An old military base, supposed to be abandoned, burning to the ground. No survivors.” He raised an eyebrow at Barry, who didn’t flinch.

“They were torturing people. Eiling deserved to get barbequed, after Bette, and…” he lowered his voice. “I couldn’t leave them. What happened to them, it’s all my fault. Four months, they thought no one cared, no one was coming, for months. Look at them, Oliver.”

Oliver had looked. He’d never met Caitlin Snow or Cisco Ramon, though Felicity had spoken highly of them. What he could see of them, that wasn’t covered in blankets, was a grim sight. They were jittery, pale, their hair shorn and wrists ringed with scars from restraints. With a shudder, he recognized other scars, marks where wounds–incisions– had healed with the help of methodical stitches. In the woman’s fingers, across the bit of arm that wasn’t wrapped in cloth. Underneath the stubble of Cisco’s hair. Stein’s clothing bore evidence of a cattle prod or similar. And there was the Lost look about them, when hope had been worn away and the promise of it now was something they didn;t know what to do with. He knew that look. He’d worn it himself.  
  
“What’s our move, then?” he asked, addressing all of them.

“I have to go back. I’ll tell him, I wasn’t in time to save Stein and Ronnie, that I went to you for advice on dealing with it. If he knows we Suspect something–Iris, Joe, My dad.” Barry rubbed the back of his neck. “There has to be a way to beat him, but not tonight. Not if he’s the man in Yellow.”

“The Reverse Flash,” Cisco said, stronger now, but still keeping his head ducked, his arms pulled in tight. “There is. I saw…something. Maybe not. Another…world. I don’t know. The visions are all jumbly. But…” he glanced up, and Barry moved closer, slowly. Cisco didn’t flinch as much this time. “We need all of us.” 

  “Then we’ll do it together,” Ronnie promised.  
“Together,” came the halting, stuttered echo, one by one.  
Outside, dawn turned the sky the faintest shade of pink as the sun burst over the hills.


	49. Vibrato pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Barry, Caitlin, Joe, " I thought you were dead"  
> pt three of Zoom kidnaps Cisco

The ladder led up into a hallway Cisco didn’t recognize, but there was a door that didn’t take long to get through and outside that lay freedom. Also: absolutely nothing but an unpaved road and way too many trees for Cisco’s liking. They ran as best they could for several tense minutes until they rounded a band, with no hint of being followed.  
  
“Did you kill him?” Jesse asked, catching her breath.

“Maybe? But I get the feeling he’s not gonna be quick on his feet for a while, if he did survive.” Cisco grinned at the memory, elation pounding like birdsong in his ears.  With the snapping of the soundwave, Zoom had dropped like a stone, and he hadn’t so much as titched afterwards, lying on the floor like a broken toy, the lightning and hum gone. “Kay, I’m guessing this isn’t Central City.” He winced, looking at Jesse. “Uh…do you know where this is?”

“It …looks like a forest,” she said, blinking like she hadn’t seen sunlight in a very long time. “Pretty sure of that. Other than that…not really. Um. Might be a state park? The closest one is…east of the city, so….”

“Heading west sounds good.” Cisco hoped he sounded sure of himself. “Once we do, we just need to get to STAR Labs.”

“My Dad’s company,” Jesse nodded, still shaking. “You said, earlier… he sent you? You work for him? But he…really doesn’t like metahumans.”

“Not for. _With._ Like I said, long story.”

“It’s going to be a long walk.” She shrugged, apologetically. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat?”

Cisco fished in his pocket and produced one of Barry’s calorie bars, slightly squashed. “Don’t eat the whole thing, it’s got enough calories for, like, a week. I made them for the Flash.”

“You work for J—the Flash?”

“ _With_. Yes…and no? I’m from another world, and yes, I know exactly how crazy that sounds. There are some portal…things. I work with my world’s Flash, but your Flash showed up a bit ago, and then your dad. And Zoom. He’s been trying to kill our Flash, my best friend. I think he figured out I was spying on him.” He tapped his head as they walked. “But anyway, yeah, I work with both of them.”

“I know about the other Earth. Zoom…mentioned it.” She hugged her arms around her. Cisco winced, remembering one of his early vibes.

“Hey, it’s gonna be ok, promise.”

“You can’t promise something like that. How do you know?”

He shrugged again. “Because we made it this far, oh ye of little faith.”

They walked a little further in silence before a rumbling behind them made them both flinch and turn.  
  
~~~  
“I need to—“ Barry tried to push himself up from the med-bay cot.

“You need to rest,” Caitlin said, her voice and hands steady, though dried tracks on her cheeks where she’d cried betrayed her. “You can’t save him running on two shattered legs, Barry.”

“You said they were healed.” Barry countered, his face still so pale with pain that his freckles stood out like ink marks. “Caitlin, he—“

“I _know,”_ Caitlin snapped, then faltered. “You’re heal _ing_ not heal _ed._ It was bad, and it takes you longer than an hour and a half to heal from something like that.”

The silence stretched, punctuated by the shill chips from medical equipment, and faint hum of the florescent lights and computers. When Barry broke it, his voice was soft. “You think he’s dead, don’t you? That Zoom…”

“No,” Caitlin shook her head so fast her hair flew. “He’s not dead, I won’t believe it. When Zoom attacked you, he did it in front of us. He would have done the same thing, he would have. He had to have. Cisco’s not dead. He’s _not._ As soon as you’re able, we’ll find him. I know we will. There has to be…some way.”

Barry nodded, swallowing hard. He could still hear the echo of it in his ear, though he’d long since removed the com, though so much had gone on on his end. It wasn’t the meta he’d fought that he couldn’t forget, not the sound of his legs shattering or his own cry. It was the other side of things, Caitlin’s screaming after the lightning-buzz had faded, the sound of splintering glass.  
  
Joe, Jay, and Iris had busied themselves with the glass, sweeping it up. Harry had left, taking his tranq gun. Joe found him downstairs, pointing the weapon at the portal.  
  
“I’m going to be ready for him. When that thing comes back.” Harry said, his tone flat. “I’m not going to let anyone else pay for my mistakes.”

“Barry and Caitlin think Cisco might still be alive—your daughter, too. You don’t think so?” Joe asked, settling himself on the stairs.

“Your team is optimistic, and look where that luxury got them. Got us. Zoom is a monster. Besides, can you tell me you honestly believe Ramon isn’t dead?”

Joe said nothing for a long moment. “Kid’s been through things not even you can imagine. He’s stronger than he looks.”

“But even you have doubts, detective.”

“I’m not going to be the one to tell them that. I can’t.” Joe shook his head. “Not without proof. But…Zoom is a monster. I can’t deny that. What he did to Barr, that would have killed anyone else.”  
  
Harry grunted, then examined the gun. “My daughter is all I had left. Even if he hasn’t killed her, he will if we don’t stop him. I’m not willing to let that happen if I have even the slightest chance. And if it’s already too late, I’m going to at least avenge her.”  
  
They sat, awash in blue light from the pulsing portal until the flats of their feet ached. Harry passed the gun to Joe to give his legs a moment to stretch and his arms a moment to relax, going upstairs for word from those in the cortex. He had been gone only a minute when the portal’s gleam dimmed and shifted. Someone—something—was coming through.

~~  
The trucker was kind enough not only to tell Jesse and Cisco that they were around fifty miles from Central City, but also give them a ride. Cisco had hesitated only a moment, the Vibe he’d seen when he shook the man’s hand had been somehow warm despite the blue tinge, a man playing with his children and a small dog, friendly and joyful. Jesse hadn’t hesitated at all. They’d piled in, and he’d left them off a few blocks from downtown. He’d waved off any offer of money, which was a good thing, since Jesse had none, and somehow Cisco guessed that cash from his world wouldn’t match that of this America.  
  
“How can I help you?” a well dressed blonde woman asked primly from behind her desk in the STAR Labs lobby. Looking up, she gasped. “Miss Jesse! Oh, my heavens, you—we were all so worried about you, after the news that you’d…” she glanced at her watch, blinking red, and then narrowed her gaze at Cisco. “Miss Jesse,” she lowered her voice. “That’s a metahuman. Are you hurt, are you in danger? Is _that_ what took you? I’ll call the poli—“

Cisco flushed, looking at his dusty shoes for a moment before lifting his chin.

“This is my friend,” Jesse said, her voice firm for all it was dry. The trucker had only had one spare water bottle. “Helen, I need you to put down the phone, and let us into the basement.”

“But, Jesse, i— _he’s one of them._ And I can’t allow just anyone off the streets innot without authorization.” Her voice rose higher into a squeak.

 “He has authorization! From me! He saved my life!” Jesse hissed back, the anger flashing in her eyes a match for her father’s. “And I know that my father’s missing, too. I’m legally the next owner of this company, and I have full access. Let me, and my friend, in. Now.”

“You have full access,” Helen agreed, and Cisco saw she was shaking, some. “But I’m not going to lose my job because I allowed some guttersnipe—“

“Fine,” Jesse smiled with brightly concealed rage. “You won’t lose your job for allowing it. You’ll lose it for being a racist busybody who refuses to follow directions and acts condescending to my personal guest, who, may I repeat, saved my life after I’ve been kidnapped and held hostage for—what, three weeks? Three months? I don’t know,” Jesse snapped, then raised her voice. “Fight me, Helen.” Swiftly, she reached across the desk, and hit a button. The door swung open. “C’mon.”

Cisco followed, glad to get away from the glaring,  his pride still stinging.

“I never liked her. I’m sorry.” Jesse looked at Cisco once they were inside the main corridors. Outside, Helen was shrieking.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Cisco shrugged. “Um, ok, so basement—“ It was eerie, how identical the floorplans were, aside from the occasional keycard scanner. Luckily, even after Helen’s card maxed out its clearance, others recognized Jesse’s fingerprint, and no one else put up a fuss. He led the way through the maze, hoping that the portal was where it was on his Earth.

“You shouldn’t have to. You’re a hero.” Jesse insisted. “And anyway---oh, oh wow.” The portal gleamed in front of them, and Cisco was vaguely surprised it hadn’t been better guarded.  
“Ready to see your dad?” Cisco asked, extending a hand. She took it, and they stepped forward. The world went blue.  
~~

Joe fired, the dart hit something and clattered to the ground. The blue light faded, and he found his voice.

“Harry! Barry! Caitlin! Get down here, NOW.”

Cisco lowered his free hand and got to his feet, grinning and exhausted. “I’m really glad I saw that coming.” He reached down to help Jesse to her feet, he’d dragged them both down as soon as the vibe had ended and they’d found the other end of the portal.

She smiled shakily, and in that moment utter chaos erupted.

 Barry was the first down the stairs in a streak of gold light, but Caitlin and Harry were hot on his heels. Cisco felt the air crushed from his lungs and Barry hugged him, and he released Jesse’s hand to hug back, suddenly keenly aware of how much energy he’d expended and how close he’d come to dying.

“You’re alive, thank God, I thought you were dead,” Barry muttered as Caitlin joined the group hug, crying again.

“Don’t scare me like that, you hear me?”

Cisco just nodded against her shoulder, too out of breath and overwhelmed to speak. It seemed like an eternity that they stood, clinging to each other, each rapid heartbeat another strand, three harp strings plucked and echoing. It was the best sound he’d ever heard.  
  
Harry stood, stock still at the base of the stairs, as if the world had shattered beneath his feet and he could not move for fear of falling through. “Jesse?” He whispered, his voice thin as a bit of straw, breaking with hope.

“Daddy!” Jesse half tackled him, not waiting for him to come to her but trusting his arms. They fit around her, and for the first time that anyone had ever seen, Harrison Wells wept, hugging his daughter close.

Somehow, the two groups slid together, pulling Joe and Iris into the mess, a tangled knot of hands and arms around shoulders, heads tucked against shoulders and chests, laughing and weeping. They were safe. They were safe, and alive, and together.

They were home.


	50. Anaphylaxis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Barry, "I thought we'd lost you"  
> Character death

Everyone’s standing around, and hoping with the same intensity of the lightning crackling that this will work as Barry presses his hands to Cisco’s still chest and pushes. What’s the point of the speedforce, of the healing and the speed, if it’s not enough? Cisco jolts, his body arches, and Barry steps aside for Caitlin to start the compressions again.  
This has to work.  
Anything else is unacceptable.

Two minutes of compressions later, Barry fills his hands with golden sparks and tries again. This time, there’s a flicker of movement in his eyelashes, and Barry sighs with relief, the air dragged out of his lungs. “Oh, thank God, I thought we lost you, I’m so sorry,” the words blur together at hyperspeed, unintelligible. Because Caitlin’s shoved him back, and started compressions again.

And that means—but, no, it should have worked, his heart should have restarted, that’s what’s supposed to happen, right?

“Barry—Barry you need to get him to the hospital, we can do anything else, he’s not—“ Caitlin’s voice is thick and Barry doesn’t let her finish, just scoops Cisco up and runs.

He should be deadweight, but his still body seems lighter than it should be. Barry can feel the cracked ribs from CPR that didn’t help. _It had to have helped, it had to, keep the—oxygenated blood pumping, and then the lighting restarts…resets…_

A half hour later, with all of them in their street clothes, pale faced, wait the agonizing minutes in the emergency room lobby, they don’t need to hear the doctor say, “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because that's not how AEDs work, Barry.


	51. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Dante, "I'm not going anywhere."

“I hate your job.” Dante said abruptly.   
“You sound like Mama. Didn’t you say, last time, you were jealous of my conviction or whatever?” Cisco countered, testing the restraints that kept his hands secured.  
“That was before I got kidnapped, _again._ I thought your friend said this wouldn’t happen. What, he still mad at you for—“  
“He wasn’t mad,” Cisco snapped. “He said he’d have given himself up if he’d had the chance. And it’s not the same people, it can’t have been. For one thing, Cold’s off the grid, and the rest of his crew’s locked up. Except for Glider and Heatwave, but Mick probably would have just set me on fire, and this isn’t Lisa’s style.”  
“You have more than one set of psychopathic enemies?” Dante groaned, trying to ignore how casually his little brother had said ‘set me on fire.’ “That’s just great, Paco. What do these ones want? Lightsabers? A time machine?”  
“You know, I built one of those. We salvaged most of the blueprints, too. I can show you next time you decide to stop by STAR.”  
“No thanks.” Dante grimaced again, craning his neck. From his chair, he could just glimpse the door—probably locked, even if he and Cisco could get free. This wasn’t some spindly table leg he could kick out—though that hadn’t gone terribly well. Nothing the last few months had gone terribly well. Cisco’d moved back home and gone again as soon as he could escape their mother’s disappointment, and the first time in weeks they’d seen each other, grabbing lunch, they’d been kidnapped. What even was his life?  
Cisco took a deep breath. “It’ll be ok, we just need to stay calm.”  
“Calm, right, when one of those metahuman creeps that taskforce can’t even stop has us locked up in some murder-basement. Sure, Calm.”  
“Not helping,” Cisco continued fumbling, he just needed a little bit of give in the rope. If he could get one hand free...

The door swung open. Dante shifted, hoping it was the Flash—he’d never actually met the guy, and was pretty sure no matter what Cisco said that the hero was ticked that 1) a gang of criminals knew his name because of them and 2) _Dante_ knew his name, though he’d kept quiet about that. Cisco had figured he hadn’t heard, and like hell was he painting a bigger target on his own back.  
  
It was distinctly not the Flash, but rather, the same wackjob that had stuffed him into a trunk a few hours earlier, the skin around his eyes smudged and dark-veined. Cisco yelped—he’d been hit from behind, and only now got a good look at their captor. “Blackout?”

“You know my name.” The man grinned, a terrifying sight. “Do you also know why you’re here? Zoom sent me-“

“—To kill the Flash, yeah, I’ve heard it before.” Cisco couldn’t forget the first Blackout, the one from this earth, who’d been more scared and overwhelmed and hurt than anything. This guy looked like he was in much more control. And more calm, which was not as comforting as it should have been. A plan occurred to him, risky, but better than nothing. “Look, if you give me back my phone, I can call him.”

“Tell me the number.”

“You think I have everyone’s phone numbers memorized? No can do.” Cisco really hoped this didn’t get his brother hurt. “You can call him, sure, just give me the phone. And uh, kinda need my hands.”  
  
Blackout scowled, but after a pause that took way too long, nodded and swept from the room.

“Paco, what the hell are—“

“Dante, trust me. You gotta just…follow my lead, ok? When I signal, I need you to make as much noise as you can, any way that you can. Are you with me?”

If Dante could have put his head in his hands, he would have. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. But this better work. If you get use killed--”

“I’ve only ever gotten myself killed, thanks for the vote of confidence.”   
“Wait, what? Gotten yourself—anything else I should know about?”

Blackout returned, a heavy kitchen knife in one hand that seemed to spark as he cut through the ropes. He shoved Cisco’s phone at him. “Just the number. Nothing funny. Or your brother here…”

Cisco opened the contacts, listening for the hum of static around him, Blackout’s lightning filled body buzzing with it almost as much as Barry’s did, or Zoom’s. Blackout moved closer as Cisco scrolled past “Barry” and “Cait <3” and “Ignore at own peril” (Iris). Cisco looked up, met Dante’s eyes with a weak smile, and nodded.

The noise from the toppling chair, and Dante’s horror-movie-sound-effects worthy shout never reached anyone’s ears as Cisco pulled it in, one thread of sound spun together with Blackout’s own crackle, the faint hum of the phone, his own heartbeat. It coiled and pooled in his hands, resting there like a pulsing living thing just below his skin for the briefest of moments before Cisco released it, aiming at Blackout’s chest. The Metahuman went down with a crack of skull on concrete, and Cisco wasted no time in grabbing the knife to free Dante. Pulling him upright, he lunged for his phone and the panic button. They’d reached the top of the basement steps when a streak of yellow lightning swept past them.

Cisco almost laughed in relief, sagging against the wall. Dante did the same, running a hand through his hair.   
“What the hell was that, Cisco?”

“Something you should probably know about. Don’t tell Mama.”


	52. Like Ivy and Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, (earth two) Iris, " You can Trust me"

“I’m sorry,” the metahuman woman said, and though Barry couldn’t see her face under the mask—the armor—of dirt, he almost believed her. He would have, if not for the fact that she was still advancing on him, sunk deep into the ground where she’d softened the earth, turned the dirt into thin mud and hardened it again, pinning his legs, trapping his hands, gripping his chest. The comm system worked, but they were miles from the city, there was no way anyone could get to him in time.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, hoping that this time, the offer, the plea, would work. She shook her head, and the laugh that escaped was more sob than anything else.

“Yes, I do,” she said standing over him. It wasn’t often Barry had to look up to meet someone’s eyes, and he did not like it one bit. “If I don’t—“

“We can take you home.” He blurted, the words tripping to get out in desperation. “Zoom sent you, I know he did, and we can take you home. You don’t have to kill anyone, your Flash said you aren’t a killer, you aren’t a criminal, so—please, you can trust me.”

“Home?” The wistfulness changed her voice, the gravely tone dropping away, and something in it sounded so familiar. But the mask, the full body armor of stone and dirt and moss that bled into each other remained firm, and her dark eyes were hard as glass. “You don’t get it. If I don’t—If I don’t, I don’t have a Home. He’ll kill—“

“Someone you care about,” Barry guessed. “I do know. Someone else on my team is in that same boat, I’m going to get his daughter back, I’ll get your—your friend, your—“

“My husband. And you _can’t_. No one can. No one can fight Zoom, and even if—I can’t take that risk.” She met his eyes, and Barry could see her trembling even as the stone tightened around him again, as he felt the earth packing tighter around him like a sapling tree. Even vibrating did _nothing_ but bruise his bones, he was simply too tired, too out of energy. “You have to understand,” and now it seemed that she was the one pleading, the one breaking.

Barry couldn’t breathe. He could see the sparks and darking blackness of oxygen deprivation clouding his vision, and the stone girl—Jay’d never had a name for her, Cisco wanted to call her something like Igneous or…something—seemed to melt in his mind’s eye, her hard eyes going sifter, a face emerging. He knew he was just imagining it, but still. “Iris?” he whispered, hoping the voices on the other end of the comm could hear him. It wasn’t them who answered.

“How do you know my name?” the metahuman demanded, the topsoil going loose around Barry’s torso, the suit engrained with dirt. Before he could gather air enough to answer, she’d lunged, ripping off his mask and falling back with a pained cry.

“Barr? How—Zoom took you, he—Oh. Oh, god.” Her armor failed her, the mossy bits and springs of grass dropping even with the dirt and clay and stone. Iris West stood before him for a moment, then crumpled to the ground. “I can’t. I—I’m sorry, I—oh, oh god, no.” The ground around him groaned with her, softening again until he could lever himself up and out, losing his shoes in the process. Gingerly, he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, and she leant into it, still hugging herself desperately.

“Iris, it’s going to be ok. We can help you. Let us.”

Slowly, she nodded. “ _Please.”_


	53. Great and Honorable Destiny pt 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Caitlin, Cisco, "you can trust me"

“How are they doing?” Barry asked Ronnie, breathless from his run. It was hard, finding the time to sneak out to Starling, with Dr. Wells so suspicious lately, though he’d bought the story Barry had spun. It had helped that the confusion and grief at having failed a friend was real, though it wasn’t the failure Dr. Wells assumed. Even three weeks later, Barry couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the melting frostflowers on Caitlin’s skin, the way she’d savored Felicity’s soup, or the haunted look in Cisco’s eyes, the way footsteps had made him flinch. They had been his team, and what had he done, believed lies?   
There had been nothing left of the Facility for him to salvage for Felicity or her new friend, Ray, to dig into, to discover what had happened in the four and a half months Eiling and his Morally/Ethically bankrupt brutesquad had held Cisco and Caitlin, but from their condition, from what Bette had said before she’d been murdered, Barry knew it was the stuff of nightmares, the worst of nightmares.

“Better,” Ronnie had said, a grim smile in place. “Better. Cait’s doing ok, now that the professor and I—we can keep her warm, and that helps. Can’t sleep through the night, but—none of us can, really.”

“And Cisco?” Barry chewed his lip.

“He’s…” Ronnie shrugged. “Better than I would be. Some of the things he’s seen. He has visions, Allen. A scrap of cloth, someone’s hand, and he sees things. But he’s—he’s always been a tough kid. Had to be, I think.”

Barry nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have—have known, have done something.”

“I should have, too.” Ronnie closed his eyes against the memory of the flame. “ Sometimes I wonder if we all would have been better off it I hadn’t redirected the blast. It would have killed everyone in the building, but—there are things worse than death. And so many more have been hurt because of Metahumans.”

“Like me.” Barry winced. “Ronnie, you did what you thought was the right thing.”

“I did. And I lost 15 months of my life, and the woman I love paid the price for it.” Ronnie shook his head. “Is it safe for you to be here? Like this? If He finds out—your family—“

“Joe and Eddie are on loan to Starling City for a case. Iris came for the ride. I figure…now’s as good a time as any. Maybe the best chance we have. Harrison Wells killed my mother, he did all of this. To you, to me, to Cisco and Caitlin. This may be our only shot at taking him out.”

Ronnie nodded, solemn. “Then I’m guessing we don’t have much time to waste.”

~~ *~~

Cisco didn’t flinch or startle when Barry approached, but his back was to a wall, a somewhat sheltered corner of the Arrow Cave, with a view of the door, and the rest of the hideout. No surprises.

“How are you?” Barry asked, remembering to keep his voice quiet. The last time he’d snuck a visit, Cisco had divulged that part of his powers were sonic based, that every sound was amplified. Barry didn’t want to think about how Eiling had tested that, or the thin scars visible through Cisco’s too-short hair behind and around his ears.  
  
“Better. Sleeping better, I guess, and…yeah.” Cisco leaned against the wall, using it to steady himself as he stood. “Thank you, man.”  
Caitlin and Ronnie-Stein-Firestorm with glowy white eyes that Barry was literally never going to get used to joined them, careful not to crowd, But Cisco shook his head. “I’m not…glass. Your heartbeats are—good sounds. I can’t explain it so much, but…it helps?” He shrugged, nodded at Barry. “Yours is like—a hummingbird, just a buzz. And yours—“ to Firestorm “is like—doubled, but there’s just one heart. I can still hear two, but there’s only one. Like, an echo.”

It was Ronnie’s voice, but Stein’s laugh, a little grating. “I think we’ll take your word for that, Mr Ra—Cisco. Extraordinary.”

“And Cait’s is—like in the movies. All dramatic and slow. But I guess that’s not a good thing?”

Caitlin tucked herself closer against Firestorm’s side, his arm wrapping around her instinctively. “It’s not. But—I remember from Their tests, and what Felicity and Laurel helped me with. It’s my new normal.” The tiny smile faded. “Normal. What a joke.”

Barry reached out, ignoring the sting of cold in his fingertips and palm for a moment before drawing bavk.

“I’m so sorry this happened, but—we’re going to take him down. The general’s dead, but the man in Yellow—we have to stop him. I’m not sure how much time we have before he figures out I’m lying.”

Oliver watched from the entryway, but didn’t insert himself into the conversation—he’d learned the second night that scaring Cisco was a great way to end up flat on your ass with your ears ringing. Laurel had taken notes for her sonic device tactics, but the poor kid had started panicking and begging them not to hurt him. It had taken three mugs of hot chocolate and a collection of piano and guitar lullabies played from the computer to get him to relax.

“You fought him.” Cisco said. “I saw it.”

“At Christmas,” Barry agreed. “But I got my butt handed to me, he wasn’t trying to kill me, just—prove that he was faster, better, stronger.”

“No,” Cisco shook his head. “You fought him. Before, but—but not before. In another—another place. Another time, the future, or—something. I thought…I thought it wasn’t real, it doesn’t feel real. But—you can trust it. You can trust me. The things I see, I know they’re real, somehow, somewhere, somewhen. The me that was there didn’t have…” he reached up and touched his hair, tugged his earlobe. “And Cait wasn’t cold. We weren’t—affected. Or weren’t affected yet. I don’t know. But it took all of us. You and Martin, and Ronnie, and—them.” Cisco pointed but lowered his hand quickly, palms flat and shaking. Oliver and his team shrugged.

“Whatever you need. You’ve all helped us, and—if we can do something…” Oliver glanced at his suit and weapons. “You have my bow.”

“And my ax.” Felicity chimed in. “Not that I have an ax. But I could buy one. I’d probably suck until I had some training, Dig, can you teach me to use a battle ax?”  
“Not in the next three days or less,” he said rolling his eyes.  
“Oh. Drat. Well, you have my computer…hacking…stuff.”  
  
“We’ll need a trap. Something that can hold him. Cisco?” Barry asked, suddenly worried—there was some kind of etiquette no-no about asking a friend who’d been caged to build a cage, right?

Before Cisco could nod, Caitlin interrupted. “We don’t if we just…kill him.”

Barry closed his eyes. If they didn’t get a confession, his father would be in prison forever. Then again, would anyone buy the confession of Harrison Wells? A time traveling murderer, one they couldn’t exactly put on trial? And his family wasn’t the only one that had suffered. How many more had died, would die?

“That can be plan B.” he said at long last. The icy gleam in Caitlin’s eye was not reassuring, but he found he couldn’t blame her. No one else seemed eager to protest.  
~  
  
Of course, it went wrong. Nothing ever went right. They’d set up some kind of trap in one of the warehouses down the waterfront at Central City, but the Man in Yellow had been a step ahead, always a step—a yard, a mile, a _marathon_ —ahead. Barry had insisted Caitlin and Cisco hide, they were still recovering, still shaky and weak—he hadn’t wanted them in the same city but they’d insisted—and now his only thought was to keep them safe, this time. Nothing else mattered but keep Dr. Wells distracted, occupied, long enough for—for what, he didn’t know. It was hardly a matter of containing, it was question of surviving the night. Lightning crackled and swirled around him, around the cavernous space as Barry struggled. If only he could force Wells into the force field, even if he got trapped there, too, that would be alright. Maybe he’d die, but—but he could deal with that if it happened.

But Wells was fast, too fast, even running angry, and Barry knew he couldn’t keep this up. His legs felt studded with nails, and dragging in air felt like breathing in fire. Sooner or later, he’d trip. Maybe the other him that Cisco had seen had won, temporarily at any rate, but so much had shifted. The other Barry had kept his friends safe, the other Barry had been stronger, better. But all there was was the same not-hope that Cisco and Caitlin had clung too—surviving, somehow, because that was the only option. So Barry ran, dodging, punching and kicking, possessed by the speed.  
  
Firestorm and Oliver joined in the fight, but it was hard to get clear shots, clean shots, as Barry and Wells raced and ran, a tangled ball of jagged lightning. The lucky strikes they did manage only seemed to piss Wells off further. He sent Firestorm flying through a skylight, and Oliver raced out after him, hoping Barry could hold his own for a few moments.  
  
Cisco and Caitlin had hidden, their compromise to Barry’s “maybe you shouldn’t be here,” and it was only the steadying affect that Cisco seemed to have on everyone that kept Caitlin from screaming when Ronnie crashed up and out through the skylight—or maybe she had screamed, and he’d just pulled in the sound. Either way, Caitlin knew she couldn’t hide, not any longer, not if Ronnie was going to die, Ronnie, and Barry, and everyone. Speed and cold are opposites, Cisco had said once, a lifetime ago.

“Cisco,” she hissed, as they both stared at the pulse of red and gold lightning. “Cisco, we have to do something. Can you do your…thing? If we could get one hit…if I could…”

Cisco nodded, swallowing hard. “It might hurt Barry…”

“We’re all going to die if we don’t.” Caitlin hissed back. She’d have been at peace with that, welcomed that, weeks ago, chained like an animal, freezing herself from the inside out and so alone. She’d thought Ronnie dead, and probably Cisco, and Barry, and everyone else. But they were alive, now, and she refused to stop fighting again. Not now that there really was hope.  
  
That was when the lightning stopped. Wells had Barry by the throat, pinned against the far wall, mask down and face bloody. Caitlin couldn’t hear the threat he made, blurred by the hum of his vibrating hand and her own too slow heartbeat in her ears. But Cisco heard every word.  
“Plan B,” he breathed, the word pulsing as if only Caitlin had been allowed to hear it. Caitlin and Barry, who gave the tiniest of twitches.  
Wells was focused on his prize, on the surety that no one could actually stop him. Caitlin raised her palms, the frostflowers already forming, and this time instead of drawing in heat and pulling it close to melt the ice from her bones, she pushed. Beside her she saw Ciso do the same, the sound waves almost visible, a ripple through water. The sound struck first, knocking Wells off balance, enough for Barry to get free.  
Caitlin put every frozen tear, every shiver, every moment of despair from the last five months into that blast, feeling the frostflowers dig in to her hands with icy spurs that drew blood, but she didn’t care.  
The man she had looked up to, who had comforted her as she comforted him in the wake of the Accelerator, the man she had trusted with her life, who had sold her out, handed her over to a nightmare like an old sweater, hit the ground with the second of Cisco’s blasts, the sound pulled from his own heartbeat, from Barry’s, from Caitlin’s, three chords woven together.  
And as he hit, face caught in a snarl, hand still outstretched as if to gather lightning and plunge it through flesh and bone and heart, he shattered.  
Caitlin slumped to the floor, Cisco following and Barry crashing to a stumbled halt beside them seconds later. It was over, overoverover, o-ver o-ver o-ver, their heartbeats seemed to say, and for the first time in months, they breathed freely. Firestorm and Arrow burst in again, confused and terrified by the sudden end to the fight, but relaxed enough, Ronnie pulling free and going to Caitlin, an arm around her. They sat for a long moment, letting the reality of what had happened settle over them, not a funeral shroud but a blanket of comfort.  
 Everything was still, and quiet, and warm.

 

 


	54. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciso, Barry, Joe, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."  
> set right after 1.20 "the trap"

The trap failed. That was all Cisco could think. The trap had failed. It hardly mattered that Eobard had known from the start. If only he’d been more careful, had been better. If he’d noticed the cameras, maybe. And sure, maybe Everyman had had some kind of orders, but if he’d tried harder, he could have gotten something useful.  
  
But now Eddie’d been kidnapped and the Reverse Flash was in the wind and all he could think was that somehow, it was his fault. How could he be mad at Barry for trying to stop Joe from shooting? It hadn’t even really been Wells. He hadn’t been in any actual danger, well, not the danger they’d thought. He wasn’t totally defenseless, he could have fought Everyman. Probably. But the trap, his trap, had failed, and they had nothing. The Reverse Flash was still miles ahead of them, and God only knew what he was planning next.  
  
They stayed in the bunker for a long time after Barry returned, wondering what to do, pointedly not looking at the body, or the metal platform, until finally Joe stood. “We should go. C’mon.”

“I’ll give you a ride home?” Caitlin asked Cisco, and he nodded even though the last thing he wanted was to be alone. Joe shook his head.

“No way. You’re both staying with us, I’m not letting you stay alone, not with Dr. Creepy out there. Maybe there’s not much, but there is safety in numbers,” the detective insisted. Neither Cisco nor Caitlin protested.  
With Iris and Barry both home, there wasn’t exactly much in the way of extra rooms, but the couches were comfortable enough. Barry insisted Caitlin take his room, while he dragged an old air mattress out of storage, and found extra blankets for him and Cisco. It was spring, but still cool out, particularly at night.  
  
Barry was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillows, which Cisco understood. He’d done so much running already, torn through half the city on top of everything. Cisco, though, always had a hard time falling asleep. He nestled deeper into the couch back, solid and supportive, and closed his eyes, counted off breaths.  
  
Somewhere around two, he fell asleep, and the nightmare started its autoplay. Wells approaching, grinning, everything blue-tinted and static-y, everything cold. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster and then in a burst of red lightning and pain like white flame, shredding. And those words, damning, repeating. _What it’s like to have a son, smart—but not that smart,_ _you've been dead for centuries._ _A means to an end. Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me._

Cisco woke screaming, his throat raw and torn, and every light in the room flipped on in seconds, Barry vibrating with worry so hard that lightning sparked, Joe already halfway down the stairs with his gun drawn.

“What is it, what happened?” Barry demanded.  
“It’s—“ Cisco shook his head, flushing. “Nothing. I just…nightmare.” He didn’t look up.  
Joe sat heavily on the edge of the couch. “Nightmare, or _that_ nightmare?”  
“It’s nothing,” Cisco mumbled. “I just can’t stop…seeing it.”  
Barry didn’t relax, and neither did Joe. Cisco was just glad Caitlin and Iris hadn’t run in, too.  
“You don’t have to—“ Cisco started as Barry flashed to the kitchen and started making a mug of hot chocolate and Joe leaned back.  
“We’re right here, kid. We’re not going anywhere.” Joe shook his head. “It’s on me that you’re having these memories. If I hadn’t asked you to investigate Barry’s house….and I didn’t keep you safe tonight. Besides. I raised two kids, you think I don’t know how to deal with nightmares? It’s not something to be shamed about. I have nightmares, and I’ve never been actually killed. Like it or not, you’re getting hot chocolate and—Barry always liked hearing Harry Potter. Iris used to read em to him when they thought I was asleep and didn’t want to bother me. I can grab one of those, or something else if you’d rather.”

Barry darted back with a mug roughly the size of a football, topped with whipped cream and chocolate syrup, and a battered paperback copy of the first Harry Potter book. Cisco got the mug, Joe got the book, and they settled in. Somewhere around the Sorting Hat, Cisco finally, finally dozed off again, and this time, at least, his dreams were nothing more than dreams.


	55. Trust Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Jesse, "Do you trust me"  
> (set after her rescue in a nebulous post Zoom but she and her dad are still on E-1 for handwavy reasons AU)

“Cisco? I changed my mind, I don’t think—“ Jesse winced, but didn’t dare move. More and more, her speed was unstable, another fun side-effect of having been held hostage for months, with Zoom periodically draining her speed almost entirely but never fully. Sometimes she’d mean to take just a few steps, and end up three miles away with her shoes on fire. Sometimes she’d try to run and only manage a few dozen miles an hour for a block or two before giving out.  
  
Standing near the edge of the building she’d run up and was meant to run back down, Jesse froze. She _liked_ heights, especially after being kept underground for so long. But with the wind whipping at her hair, the chill seeping through the silvery suit Cisco had made (“Just a temporary one, till we get a better sense of your powers”) she decided maybe she didn’t like heights quite so much.  
“You’re doing great, Jesse,” Cisco reassured her from the other end of the comm line. “Do you need to stop? I mean, you don’t have to do this, or any of this, really.”

Jesse shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “I want to. If I don’t, I’m just going to be that scared little girl in a cage for the rest of my life.”  
“Barry said kind of the same thing, you know.” Cisco offered. “Only, scared little kid in his living room. But kind of the same sort of thing. But he takes days off, sometimes, and he wasn’t half dead when he started his training, so if you need to take a day, no one’s going to think less of you. “

 _I will,_ Jesse thought bitterly, but she just sighed, trying to get the sound of her pulse to even out and match with her breathing, trying to not just feel the lightning in her veins but grab hold of it, like the mane of a wild horse.

“Aaaaand it’ll be easier to hide from your dad. I’m pretty sure without Barry and Wally and Jay keeping him distracted, he’d know by now.”

“I’ll deal with that when it happens,” Jesse sighed again. “Ok, I’ll just take the stairs. Be home soon.”

Of course, the door leading inside was locked, and she’d never been any good at vibrating locks open, or phasing through things—she’d need room for that anyway.   
“Cisco? A little help?”  
“Uh—“ there was some rapid clicking on the other end, typing. “I can ask Barry to come grab you, or—“

“No!” she hated being run place by other speedsters, the last time Wally had given her a lift she’d thrown up. Even cars were out of the question mostly, if she went anywhere, it was under her own power, under her control.

“Ok, hey, breathe.” Cisco’s voice rang clear in her earpiece. “I’d say if you could get up the momentum to jump to the next roof over, try that, but…”

“But then I’d just be stuck there, too.” Jesse swallowed. “And my speed’s out of control anyway, I can’t….”

“Do you trust me?” Cisco asked abruptly.

“Yes.” There wasn’t any hesitation. Cisco had been the one who Got Her Out, who she’d told about her speed first, who’d helped her stabilize it. If she trusted anyone in this world completely, it was Cisco. Even her father’s actions were suspect at times, even with the clear motive of protecting her. Distantly, she knew she could wait here until someone found her, spin a story about being a security consultant and get Cisco to put a back story together, but that was a risky plan, and she knew that the longer she was up here, the colder and hungrier she’d get, the more likely her father would learn what she was. She knew it, and Cisco knew it.

“You’re going to have to run down the side of the building. I can fudge the traffic lights so no cars will be in the street across from the north side, it’ll give you some run-off room. You can do this, I know you can. Just, uh—“

“Feel the lightning.” Jesse closed her eyes, then blinked them open, feeling the sparks just under her skin. “I…I think I can do this.” If he thought she could, she’d believe it. He’d trained the Flash, after all.

“I know you can. Ready?”

“Set,” she answered, taking her stance.

“Go!”

Jesse flew.


	56. One of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Harry, "What happened doesn't change anything"  
> Set after 2.09, semi-sequel to "Echo" another fic wherein Cisco vibes Harry's deal with Zoom and confronts him.

Barry looked from Harry, to Cisco, to Caitlin, and back at Harry, then flopped boneless into a chair and groaned, still holding a fistful of Cisco’s chocolate-gingerbread cookies.  
“Why didn’t you tell us you saw Zoom?” he asked.  
“You had other concerns,” Harry hedged. “ And he told me not to. But…things have changed.” He glanced at Cisco, who had made sure to be behind Barry as nonchalantly as possible. “Zoom wants me to make you faster, and then presumably lead you into a trap. Otherwise he’ll kill my daughter, and I can’t—I can’t let him kill her. You have to understand, she’s all I care about, and if there’s any way to save her, I—“  
“I understand. We’ll figure something out.” Barry promised. “This is good. It means we have time. And if he thinks you’re helping me get faster…”  
Cisco understood “ He might not keep sending metas after us. You. There won’t be a point, if you’re already getting faster, and this means we get to set the pace. It puts us back in control.”  
“Control?” Harry scoffed. “Zoom is the one with all the power.”  
“Not anymore. He tipped his hand.” Caitlin sighed. “We know what he wants, what he has. He doesn’t know we know. Which makes us like, uh, Eobard. He thinks you’re luring Barry into a trap, but we’ll be the ones actually setting it.”  
“And you’re ok with this?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “I suppose after last night’s display with your—what did you call him? Storm Sorcerer?”  
“Weather Wizard,” Barry and Cisco corrected him.  
Harry rolled his eyes, “Him. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I suppose we should start planning now, then. We may have time, but Zoom has been patient already, I doubt we will have much more.”  
  
Barry and Caitlin left to grab Iris and Joe, as well as “real breakfast” and more coffee. Cisco started to follow, but stopped under Harry’s stare.   
“You didn’t tell them,” the older man said. “Why?”  
“You mean, why didn’t I tell them that you were going to kill me to keep me quiet?” Cisco demanded, his heartrate still too high for comfort. “Yeah, just what we need, to be divided from within.” It did not comfort Cisco at all that Harry didn’t deny the guess toward his intentions.  
“We’re already divided,” Harry said, flatly. “Mr. Garrick, myself, not to mention how involved that detective woman is…”  
Cisco shrugged, still keeping his distance, his phone carefully and visibly in hand. “Not much point, is there? You told him yourself about the deal, I’m not dead. What happened…happened. It doesn’t change anything. Barry’s a hero, and that means saving Jesse. He’d still do that, even if you did turn out like Dr. Evil McBody-snatch. But if they knew? They wouldn’t trust you. Not that they should, in my opinion, but my opinion doesn’t really matter. If Barry doubts you, he won’t listen, and that almost got a lot of people killed before, and we can’t risk that. But if you do try to pull a double cross, I’ll know. I still have all the bugs and cameras from before, and I’m putting them up, and—“ Cisco knew he was trembling, but he pressed on. “If you pull anything, Barry will know. And he’ll still save Jesse, but he’ll make sure she knows what the cost was. Got that?”

Harry nodded, his pale eyes clear. “Understood. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”  
Cisco hitched his shoulders in a half shrug that kept his core protected. “Yeah, well. I should be used to people killing me, or trying too. You’re not even the first this month.” He stalked off without another word, but carefully, keeping an eye on Harry, as if expecting some kind of attack that never came.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Kendra, Carter, "Shit are you bleeding?"  
> no character death, actually.

It’s been three months since Kendra and Carter returned from their time travel shenanigans, which Cisco was glad to learn that his vibes not only allowed him to sometimes hone in on, but also track through history books and newspaper articles that he saw double of in visions, things one way, things the other. It’s been two months and three weeks and two days since they both crashed on his pull out couch, and two months and three weeks since Cisco bit the bullet and asked if they needed a place to stay for longer than a few nights. Since Carter has the epitome of one-track mind and burned all his bridges before searching out Kendra, and Kendra’s in much the same boat, neither of them fussed much.

  
It’s been two months since Kendra referred to them both as her boyfriends, and they settled into as much normalcy as a polyamorous trio of superheroes, two who grow wings in the blink of an eye and one who occasionally has figuratively earth-shattering visions and literally earth shattering sonic powers can possibly cling too.   
They have their routine. Carter is 100% useless in the kitchen, so Kendra and Cisco do most of the cooking. Carter, however, proves to be far better at keeping things tidy and noticing when they’ve run out of milk, or tissues, or when the power bill is due. Kendra, at last comfortable with bringing up past memories, jokes that it’s left over from all the training he had to rule a kingdom. (A day later, the welcome mat by the front door has been replaced by one saying “welcome to the Palace.”)  
It’s a good routine. Even after a few months, they’re still finding their places with each other, but there’s no pressure, no ticking clock. They help Barry, they patrol, sometimes with Laurel and Sara, sometimes with Barry, sometimes just the three of them—one circling, the other two on the ground. Sometimes Cisco hangs back doing recon, manning the coms, but more and more he’s been getting out into the field—he’s been held hostage enough, thanks, and this is a good way to get some real experience. Sometimes the three of them just go out, not to patrol, just to get some air and try whatever hole-in-the-wall restaurant one of them has found that jogs a memory of another place, another life. Sometimes Cisco even sees the memories, if he’s holding one of their hands and the vibes co-operate.

  
 It’s one of those times when the assassin gets the drop on them. Kendra’d been moody, and even if she was as bad as Cisco at not telling anyone when she was hurting or something was wrong, they both picked up on it and promptly foisted patrol duties onto Barry, Wally, and Caitlin. They’d found a nice little French restaurant, one that was cheap enough that it didn’t break the bank, but had big enough portions for three vigilantes who burned through too many calories on any given day. Things had been ok—Kenda had downed all of her bouillabaisse and Cisco and Carter had both shared a look before deciding they really didn’t need the cake they’d ordered and passing her the plates. Walking out into the clear summer air, not too hot, not too cool, they’d started their way home when someone struck from behind.  
It’s a quick fight, in all honestly. The attacker—apparently part of some organization, judging by the fact that this is the fourth time someone in this uniform has pulled a stunt like this—is well trained, but not well enough to deal with three fighters with 8000ish years of experience between them, even if the memory’s a bit hazy. The woman gets a couple lucky strikes in with a knife, but Kendra’s bad mood manifests in a furious hammer blow of a wing, a sharp high kick and a snarled “Back off my boyfriends.” Really, it’s all over after that. Barry zips by to take the woman—somehow still alive—into custody, and they stand, awkwardly in the alley, brushing each other off. Cisco reaches up to pull a stray feather from Carter’s hair, Kendra examines the slash where Cisco’s jacket took the brunt of an attack.  
That’s when Carter notices the blood dripping down Kendra’s leg.

  
“Shit,” he says, which is a bit of a shock because he surprisingly doesn’t swear that often (something about his 204th mother washing his mouth out, and how he can still taste the soap) “Heart, you’re bleeding.”  
Kendra rolled her eyes at the use of her name from life 178, and snaps “Brilliant deduction. Can we go?”  
“Can you walk? Should you be standing?” Carter asks again, and Cisco can see from his stance that he’s about to pull out his wings again, still stuck in Protection mode. “Where did she strike you?”  
Kendra flushes, and Cisco blinks in understanding. Carter does not.  
“I’m fine. Let’s just go?”  
“But you are bleeding.”  
“Yes. Which I why I need to go home now.”  
Carter half turns to Cisco. “Do we need Caitlin?”   
Before Cisco can stutter out a negative, Kendra raises her arms in exasperation. “For crying out loud, are you telling me you’ve made it 4000 years and 206 lives without figuring out what periods are? Yes, I’m bleeding. Yes, it hurts. No, I’m fine, I just need a hot shower and some moosetracks ice cream so let’s. Go. Home.”  
Carter starts walking, offering her his arm. “Is that a sacred priestess thing?”  
 “No, birdbrain,” Kendra scowls for a moment, then laughs.  She takes the offered arm, then pulls Cisco in with his other arm, and they go home.  
Barry’s already dropped off three tubs of ice cream.


	58. To Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, anyone, " ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?"

Barry glared, rooted to the spot by anger. He was alone on his side of the one way mirror that looked into the makeshift interrogation room, but that didn’t matter, not really.  
“Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?” asked the mocking voice. “I don’t. I know.”  
“Shut up,” Barry growled back, heat and fury staining his cheeks blotchy red.  
“Barry Allen. Got your mother killed. Got your friends killed. Got your childhood bully killed. Sure, you’re fast. A hero. That’s what everyone tells you, want you tell yourself.” A scoff, a mocking laugh, whatever it was it grated against Barry’s nerves. “But what good’s that? You got your powers from that Accelerator, that was the whole point of it. I’m not stupid, you of all people should know that. It was meant to fail, give you these powers, and it killed dozens. Hurt hundreds more. And all of them, all the victims of the metahumans—Bette, Farooq’s friends, the lives ruined by that shapeshifter—all of that happened because of you.”  
Barry closed his eyes tight, shaking his head. “It was Thawne, it was—“  
“Of course it was. But he did it because of you. If you hadn’t existed, sure, maybe there’d be a few more people dead from car crashes, house fires, the odd train wreck. But how many more suffered, died, were kidnapped, threatened, because of the Flash? ‘Caitlin’s a widow, Iris never got the chance’, wasn’t it? And then there’s Cisco’s brother, tortured—and Poor Martin Stein, and his wife living in fear for him. Even the real Harrison Wells and his fiancé, dead, because of your enemies, your actions.”  
“I didn’t ask for this,” Barry snapped. “I know, ok? I know. I know how many people died that night, I have boxes of casefiles attributed to the metas, I have—“ what could he say? Memories of scars that had healed, images of bodies that haunted his dreams? That he’d give his life protecting people? People who wouldn’t have been in danger if not for Metahumans, and the Flash, and Eobard Thawne in the first place?  
“You can’t escape it, Allen. You can run till your feet catch fire and your heart gives out but you can never save enough to make up for it all.”  
Barry jerked free of the emotionally-induced paralysis to slam a fist on the window. His reflection only wavered with the glass, the only barrier into the empty room beyond.


	59. Got your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris, Cisco, "Don't come any closer"

Iris hefted the socket wrench she’d grabbed (with an insulated handle, hell yeah) and only barely managed to pull her blow when she recognized the figure who had opened the door to the room she was hiding in.  
“Ow, Iris,” Cisco hissed. “I’m on your side.”  
“Sorry,” she whispered back. “I thought you were Mardon.”  
“Yeah, because I look so much like him?”  
“I thought you went home with Caitlin!”  
“Not while Barry’s laid up.” Cisco huffed. “I was just in the break room. When suddenly power outage. There are times I really wish Patty’s just killed that guy.”  
“You and me both,” Iris shuddered. “We have to get to Barry, he’s a sitting duck.”  
Cisco nodded, but frowned. “I mean, he doesn’t know Barry’s the Flash…”  
“But he knows Barry’s dad’s foster son. And that’s worse.” Iris countered. In the dimness of the emergency lighting, Cisco blanched.   
“And for you, too, the whole avenge his brother thing. Crap. I thought he was after me. Ok, so…” Cisco paused. “I’m thinking ‘Home Alone,’ what about you?”  
For the first time since spotting Mardon blowing out the power and security cameras, Iris grinned, a look that would have scared Cisco if he wasn’t on her side. Actually it scared him anyway.   


* * *

  
Cisco wasn’t worried about himself, much. Mardon had shouted something about “show yourself, little nerd” and “going to find you in the end” and “fix this wand thing.” That had been all Cisco needed to hear before scampering into the conveniently people sized airducts in the newer wing of STAR Labs. Well, people sized if you were roughly the size of, say, the engineer who’d helped build them after the whole “Zoom destroying half the lab” thing. Which, also conveniently, Cisco was. He’d wanted to put lasers in the ducts, to keep other short and/or scrawny visitors out, but Caitlin had said no.  
It wasn’t like Mardon could fit inside them anyway, though Cisco felt very keenly aware of how very enclosed he was, and how very metal the ducts were. But, still, cisco was more worried about Iris and Barry. Whatever Mardon wanted him for, he wanted him alive—probably. At the very least, he owed Cold a favor again, and Cold still owed Cisco for saving Lisa, so he could probably escape the night only a little worse for where, if Mardon did catch him and things didn’t go to plan. Iris and Barry, though…

  
“Cisco?” Iris’s voice came through the salvaged coms, an earbud for each of them, and echoed faintly. “You almost there? I think he was in the break room, I heard the firecrackers.”  
“Yeah, which means he’ll probably check the Treadmill room next. I’m almost there.” He paused. “Why am I the bait again? I’ve already been bait twice in the last, like, 6 months.”  
“Because you’re the one he’d hesitate before shooting.” Iris countered. “You can give me the “you’re not part of Team Flash till you’ve been voluntold as bait” shtick later.”  
Cisco hummed, then looked down through a grate. “Okay, here goes.”

He swung down, landing a little easier thanks to Laurel’s training (and no thanks to Oliver’s) just in time for the door to swing open.  
Mark snarled, but didn’t shoot a bolt of lightning at him, which Cisco figured might have something to do with the fact that the metahuman had been drenched in a cocktail of gasoline and Caitlin’s last five attempts at super alcohol. Of course, that didn’t stop him from stalking forward, leaving the door wide open behind him. Still, Cisco would take what he could get. Fumbling, he reached for the small butane torch he’d grabbed from his toolbox.

  
“Don’t come any closer, Wizard.” Cisco hoped he at least sounded badass. “That stuff in your clothes and hair is around 600 proof. You survived lightning and all my traps, wanna risk that too?” Of course, that was when Mardon threw up a hand and a gust of wind blew Cisco back into a wall. He dropped the torch, unlit. The emergency lighting wasn’t enough to see it by.  
“You’re gonna fix this wand for me, kid. I know you built it, you’re the Flash’s little techie. So now you’re gonna change it around, so it goes the other way.”  
“Um, yeah, I actually can’t tell science what to do. I can’t just make unbound atmospheric electrons,” Cisco winced as Mardon grabbed his arm.  
“Well, you better figure it out, or else—“ he dropped with a clatter.   
  
Iris raised the wrench again. “Think I ought to hit him again? I kinda want to hit him again.”  
Cisco shrugged, rubbing his arm. “Took you long enough. Next time, you get to be Kevin and I’ll be the bird lady-slash-old man Marley.”

“Next time. Let’s get him down to the pipeline? And we should probably let Barry know we aren’t dead.”  
“Probably,” Cisco agreed, as the power flickered back to life.


	60. False Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Caitlin, prompt is " Cisco vibes the Promo"

There are times Cisco almost wishes—in moments of weakness—that Barry hadn’t reset the timeline, that one time he died. That he’d just stopped the tidal wave, and found his body and stopped Eobard with Caitlin and Joe and the Arrow team. Dying sucked, and he’s glad he’s alive, mostly. But remembering it hurts as much as actually dying did, and now there’s the new death, the one with the wave of blue magic that kills everyone, which feels like every inch of him is made of flame. Maybe normal people don’t feel pain in dreams, but these are memories, and Cisco’s not normal. So there are times he wishes that just maybe he’d stayed dead. Granted, without him and his handy-dandy super traumatic powers, a lot more people would be dead, or dying, or just worse off, and he hates that, but there are still moments.  
  
Looking up from the floor where he fell at Caitlin is not one of those times, but it’s still close, because how is he supposed to tell her what he saw when he fell back after touching her arm? The vision was one of his worst, more than a pounding headache. He can still feel the chill, and somehow it feels like he’s been kicked in the ribs, a visceral, physical pain from the shock. The wrongness. He wants to throw up, and Caitlin crouches, worried, pressing a hand to his forehead as if too soothe him and everything goes blue again.

It’s the same vision, and it still cuts out with the same words, “It’s so much more fun to be bad,” in Caitlin’s voice, but not her voice. Not. Hers. It’s a tone he’s never heard from her, more akin to Lisa Snart, slow, seductive, honeyed. And it’s not his Caitlin’s, it’s Wrong. But it’s her face, even if the hair’s too pale. He knows, in that spot in his chest that signifies certainty about all his vibes, that this is Caitlin Snow. The frost, the chill, seeps into his bones even though he knows he’s not really there, just watching as the young man trying to escape falls, frozen solid, his glasses misted over. And, oh God, it’s Barry’s face.

“Cisco, are you ok, what’s wrong?” Caitlin’s voice is quick with panic, and her hands, usually cool, are warm, but he flinches anyway, scooting back on pure instinct. Caitlin rocks back on her heals as if the fear in Cisco’s eyes was a physical blow. “You saw something? What..?”   
It’s a horribly long moment before Cisco can think, before he can register that he’s not in some Earth two street, that it’s Caitlin, that he’s home. But he can’t answer, still. What’s he supposed to say, ‘ I saw other world you murder other world Barry’?  
“Cisco?” Caitlin asks again, going full Mother-Hen, tugging off her coat to use as a makeshift shock blanket, amber eyes full of nothing but concern. She’s always had a one track mind; focus on one thing at a time, worry about one thing at a time, and right now, every bit of her is worried about him. Cisco breathes fully for the first time in minutes, trying to clear the images from his head, focusing on the sound of his heartbeat, of hers, of breathing, drowning out the echoes of the Vibe.  
  
“What did you see?” she asks again, and Cisco shakes his head. He can’t tell her. He can’t. She already blames herself for anything she’s remotely connected to (Ronnie’s death, Eddie’s death, every bad thing that’s happened to this little team--family. Even the Singularity, even Bette’s death, even Grodd. if she can blame herself, she does, that’s Caitlin. That’s Caitlin, not the woman from the other world, all ice-queen radiating cruelty), he can’t add one more thing to that burden she refuses to let go of. Better for him to carry it.   
“Just—the timeline Barry reset again,” he says, hoping she believes him knowing that this is something that haunts her even if she can’t remember it—but it’s better than telling her the truth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t get much sleep. I’m fine. You’re fine. Want a coffee? I need a coffee.”

It took too long to get his feet under him, steady, stable, and he missed the flicker of doubt in Caitlin’s eyes.


	61. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe, Barry, " Just be Careful"  
> Character death

All Barry could think, Iris beside him in the brightly lit space that was the STAR Labs med bay, was that this wasn’t supposed to be how the story went. Every fiber of him, lit with lightning, screamed that this was not how the story was supposed to go, he was a hero. He was supposed to keep people safe, and even when he couldn’t—it was supposed to be some grand, terrible thing that ended things. It was supposed to be a tidal wave that destroyed a city, or an earthquake that broke the world in half, something no one could stop, something that killed him, too.  
  
Joe was a cop. Cop’s jobs were dangerous, risky. Barry knew that. He’d known that since he was a child, learned it again in sleepless nights waiting up with Iris, wrapped in blankets as they were now. But they weren’t on a couch, sipping hot chocolate and glancing at the door or phone every few minutes. And Joe wasn’t just working late.  
  
He smiled from the hospital bed, where Caitlin had done everything she could with her hands so steady but her voice shaking. Where they’d all done everything they could, but all it had done was delay. Barry had wanted to run, to turn back time again, if anyone deserved a second chance it was Joe, but—he hadn’t been fast enough. He hadn’t gone far enough. Even going back in time, he’d still been too late.  
  
“Barry,” Joe sighed, his voice catching. “Don’t. ‘S not your fault.” He twitched his hand, a faint squeeze on Iris’s fingers, his eyes flickering to a stony faced and solemn Wally, losing his second parent in as many months. Iris tried to keep at least her voice free of tears, with mixed results. The backs of her hands were wet from rubbing at her cheeks, her dress was dotted with saltwater stains. Barry was little better.  
  
“Joe, I—“ Barry started, but stopped as Joe gave a feeble shake of his head.  
“Daddy, it’s going to be ok,” Iris whispered, knowing that the lie was no comfort to him, or to herself, but wishing that saying it would make it true.  
“I’m so proud of you. All of you. Strong. Brave.” The machines chimed a little louder, a little more frantic. Wally stood, meaning to go for Caitlin, but Joe drew him back, stiffly, weakly. “No point. I know. Be careful. My kids. I can’t keep you safe. Never did a very good job of that. Should have done better. Listen.” The warmth in his eyes was fading, but he managed another smile. “Just promise me. Be careful. Protect each other. Remember, I love…”  
He paused, as if for breath, but no breath came.


	62. In Proving Foresight May be Vain pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse, Caitlin, Barry, "It's all my Fault"

  
_Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!_  
The present only toucheth thee.  
  
Jesse shivered in her cell. She’d have been grateful she was no longer chained to the top bars of her cage, except that she refused to be grateful for anything Zoom did. Holding on to that anger was one of the only things keeping her going in the dank little prison, though she wondered if she’d be able to just curl up and die. Zoom still wanted her alive, she didn’t like the thought of to what lengths he might go to keep her that way.  
  
The other thing she still clung to was the faint hope of promised Rescue. She’d been so sure that no one would come, with the Flash and her father gone to another world, sure that no one would ever find her. But then someone had come, someone had found her, and she knew that if she lived to be old (not that she was counting on it) she’d never forget his face, all lit up when he found her, or how still and calm it had been, after. He’d been so insistent that his friends would come for her, even if it was too late for him. His friends, her father.  
  
If she hadn’t asked questions, if she’d just run, would those two, three seconds have made a difference? Could they have really gotten away? She knew they could have. Just a few seconds, and she’d have been safe, Luke wouldn’t have died. He’d died trying to help her, and she hadn’t been enough to get out. Zoom’d taken him—she refused to think the words ‘his body’ a little while later, and that had been two, three days ago. Maybe longer, maybe not, she’d never been great at judging time and there was no way to really know. His friends hadn’t come yet, but she gripped the hope, the prayer, that they would as tightly as she gripped her cell bars.  
  
Luke Skywalker. She’d remember that name, she’d carry that with her, even if she died down here. It was the only thing she could do, really, besides sit and wait, or stand and wait, or cry and wait.  
  
She heard footsteps, and flinched. “Get hold of yourself,” she whispered. “Get hold of yourself, Quick, you aren’t going Crazy, not now, not when you lasted this long. You aren’t hearing anything.” Because Zoom’s footsteps never reached her until he did, gleaming iridescent blue and black like a crow’s wing, and there was no rushing bright lightning now. Just footsteps. Maybe she was only imagining things—knowing she was so close to STAR Labs was probably it, she could imagine Charlie the security guard’s steps, heavier on his left foot than his right, or Helen the secretary’s clicking heels, or the way her father always had perfect form like he was performing on camera with each step except when he ran. It sounded like those steps now, but faster than she’d ever heard them. Her breath froze in her chest.  
“Jesse?” a familiar voice called.   
“Daddy!”

~ break~

It was overwhelming to say the least. The other STAR Labs, through the portal, was emptier, smaller, but still chaotic. She hadn’t wanted to let go of her father, scared that if she did, it would melt away, just a dream, and she’d wake up cold and alone. But a woman with long brown hair and sad eyes and a tight smile eventually pried her away, checking her over for injury and setting her up with a mug of watery tea and a small meal.  
“We don’t want you to get sick after so long of…well. Start with this, and we’ll see,” she stopped, a shuddering sigh escaping her. “I’m sure you’re tired, but I’ll tell Harry—Dr. Wells—if you feel up to--?”  
Jesse swallowed the tea, half burning her throat in the need for warmth. She nodded.  
“Thank you, uh—“  
“Caitlin. Dr. Snow, but Caitlin is—fine.” She excused herself.  
  
Her father didn’t leave her side for the rest of the day—she thought it was day, there was real light coming through high windows.  
“How did you find me?” She asked, finally. “I thought no one would, but then…”  
His face darkened, and Jesse knew it was the expression he put on when he was trying to hide sorrow with anger or resentment or frustration, but he softened at the concern in her eyes. “Jesse, I never stopped trying. I’ll always find you, no matter how long it takes. It’s—later. We’ll talk later. You need to rest. Eat. Get your strength back.”  
Jesse _was_ very tired. For so long, all her energy had been focused on staying alive, on holding on, and finally, her body had decided she was safe. Still, her sleep was not easy, and her dreams were haunted.

* * *

 

She noticed in the first two days of freedom that aside from asking how she felt, Dr. Snow and a young man—older than her by a handful of years, maybe, who had to be the Flash here, always seemed to be busy elsewhere. They seemed glad she was ok, but distant. And she knew why. She’d gotten their friend killed. Shame flooded her, sitting on her hospital cot, swinging her legs. She should have said something, offered sympathy—did Luke have a family? A girlfriend, or boyfriend or brothers and sisters? Or was this his family? She was still meant to be on bedrest, but her father had ducked out, in some sort of disguise, for coffee, so she slipped from the room, warm despite the thin bedclothes she’d been given.

The main room was nearly empty, but she spotted Dr Snow at one desk, the Flash at another, examining some bit of equipment. The Flash looked up first, just as she started to clear her throat; Dr. Snow was not far behind.

“Do you need something?” the Flash asked, not unkindly, worry wrinkling his forehead. “Is something wrong?”  
“No, I just wanted to say…thank you. For everything.”  
“It’s kind of what we do.” The Flash shrugged. “I’m Barry, by the way.”  
“You should be resting, you’re still weak.” Dr. Snow started to stand, but Jesse shook her head.  
“I’m fine. I feel fine. I just…I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” Barry offered her a chair even as her legs wobbled. She sat heavily. “I’m so sorry about Luke.”  
Barry looked at Dr. Snow. Dr. Snow looked at Barry.  
“What?”  
“Your friend? The one who tried to save me. I was too slow, and Zoom—it was all my fault, that he’s dead, and—“  
Barry closed his eyes, pained. “We wondered. What happened, when you didn’t get back. But then Zoom…brought his bod—him here. As a warning.” He swallowed hard. “What happened wasn’t your fault, Jesse. I was the one who should have done a better job keeping Zoom busy.”  
Jesse swiped a sleeve across her streaming eyes and nose, emotions she’d kept bottled up for so long finally breaking through the glass dam she’d pinned them behind.  
“He said—he said to tell you it was his idea, and “no blame.” I don’t know if he meant don’t blame yourselves, or that he doesn’t—didn’t—blame you, but…”  
Dr. Snow sniffed hard, her eyes redder than normal, but she nodded. “That sounds like Cisco. But, you called him…Luke?”  
It was Jesse’s turn to stare, and blink. “He said that was his name. Luke Skywalker.”  
Barry laughed, then, a small and broken laugh that had the barest edges of real mirth in it, growing warmer. Dr. Snow ducked her head, but the tremor that shook her shoulders seemed to be a suppressed giggle rather than tears, or maybe it was some of both.

“His name was Cisco Ramon. Francisco Ramon, but he just went by Cisco,” Dr. Snow finally said. “Luke Skywalker is a character in a movie, a favorite movie. A hero. He was probably quoting. He does that—did that.”

Barry’s smile was sad. “It was—fun, watching movies with him. He’d quote half of the dialog, or talk about the history or trivia…”  
“I’m sorry,” Jesse managed again.  In her head, she repeated the name, Cisco, Cisco, Cisco, attaching it to the bright smile, the worried eyes, the odd language he’d murmured in before he couldn’t anymore.   
“He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. Or any of us to. We still will, but…that was Cisco.” Dr. Snow—Caitlin spoke softly. “He always thought everyone else was more important.”

“I wish I could have known him,” Jesse said.

“There might be a way you…sort of can.” Barry chewed his lip before crossing to another desk, and pulling a case out. “I think it’s time we had a STAR Labs Movie night again, it’s been too long.”

“Yes. After all, Cisco would be ashamed of us if we didn’t.” Caitlin nodded, seeing the name on the case. _A New Hope._  
  



	63. Wild Geese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non quote Prompt: Eddie dealing with aftermath from Eobard kidnapping him. Feat. Cisco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pssst, it's my birthday :) Title and Epigraph+ end lines from Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese"

_Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.  
Meanwhile the world goes on.  
_  
“Hey,” Cisco waited until Eddie had taken the bowl of soup and the grilled cheese sandwich balanced on top before flopping into a chair. If Eddie hadn’t been in quite such a bleak state, he might have laughed, the way the engineer’s arms flailed lazily and the chair gave a half spin so that Cisco was stuck facing a wall. As it was, he prodded at the soup with a spoon and set it aside.  
“Man, we have got to fix this chair, or at least make the walls less boring. I think green? That’s supposed to be calming or something, right?” Cisco spun back around.  
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Eddie sighed. “But I really need to just think right now.”  
“False.” Cisco answered. “You had two weeks with nothing _but_ thinking. Also, Caitlin and Iris might actually kill me if you don’t eat something, and since you aren’t talking to them, and Barry’s off doing his guilt trip, and Joe’s...Joe, you’re stuck talking to me.” After a long pause, Cisco shrugged. “Orrrr...not. But you better at least eat, because I for one am not facing the wrath of your girlfriend.”  
Eddie huffed a little. “We broke up.”  
Cisco picked up the bowl and forced it back into Eddie’s hands. “Not risking it. She still loves you, and she still scares me.” But his face softened, as much as it had been mock stern. “We’re all worried, you know. She thought you were dead. We all did.”  
“No chance of that,” Eddie muttered, but then looked up from where he’d been shredding bread into the still full bowl, the wisps of steam lessened now that it wasn’t as hot. “Wait. What? Why would you be worried?”  
It was Cisco’s turn to blink in surprise. “Um, because you’re our friend who’d been kidnapped by a psychopathic murderer who once did to my heart what you’re doing to that sandwich? For real? Why is this even a question? Why wouldn’t we have been worried, did you miss the bit where we thought you might be dead?”  
“But I’m nobod--”  
“Finish that sentence and I’m siccing Iris on you,” Cisco said flatly. “What the hell did he say to you? No, wait, I can guess. The usual villain BS about how you aren’t important, don’t matter, no one really cares, blah blah blah blah blah.”

Eddie started to put the soup back on the table; Cisco leveled a glare that would make his Tia Dolores, Abuela Rosa, and Joe West in Papa Wolf mode proud. Eddie picked up the spoon instead.  
There was a long pause, made more awkward by Eddie’s slow, deliberate bites and Cisco looking around the rest of the recovery room for something to occupy him. Finally, Eddie spoke again, his voice soft.  
“But he was right.” When Cisco didn’t press, he went on. “I’m not a hero, I’m not special, and--He’s from the future, he knows, the family history, and I’m the only one who...didn’t amount to anything. I thought, moving to Central city, finding Iris, being part of this would mean something, but...I’m still just nothing. I always knew that. And that’s the thing, Iris, Barry, all of you, you keep blaming him for...me, but he didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, not really. So you can go, ok? Just, leave me alone. I don’t need to be pity-invited. I know Joe only brought me in on this to keep Iris safe, and she’ll have Barry for that. And I know the rest of you are--are  brilliant, and superpowered, and special, and I’m just...Eddie Thawne. Nothing special except my last name, and that’s not even for me. It’s for--my father, and my uncle, and apparently my great grandchildren, and I know you think this is helping, but it really, really isn’t!”  
Somewhere along the lines, Eddie had stood, and though he was still standing, his knees shook, and his face was paler than it should have been, the marks on his wrists from the restraints Eobard had used standing out starkly. He swayed, steadying himself on the table.  
Cisco nodded. “Feel better?”  
“What?”  
“Getting it out so it’s not all rocketing around in your head, convincing you. Does it feel better?” Cisco asked again, overly patient.  
“I don’t--.”  
“Look, I am the last person to go to with Self esteem issues, trust me, but...you do realize that you’re wrong, right?”  
“Were you even _listening_?”  
“Mmmmh-hhmm. Look, answer something for me. Barry once said that Iris said you keep count of arrests, yeah? How many really bad people did you help put away this year?”  
Eddie blinked. “I don’t see how that--”  
“And how many of them can’t hurt anyone again, now? How many little kids are safe from, I dunno, their murdery neighbor, how many people are protected because you got the person who might have killed them next, or something? How many people are safe from having their lives ruined by Everyman because you dug deeper and were the proof that he could do what he’d done--because let’s face it, if you hadn’t been framed, I don’t know how long it’d have been before Barry and Caitlin figured something out--how many?”

Eddie blinked. “I don’t--I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”   
“But--” Eddie frowned.  
“And you saved Barry from Snart and Rory back in January, so technically everyone Barry’s saved in the last four-ish months is because of you. And as one of those people--I _hate_ bees-- I’m gonna say, that’s not nothing.”  
Eddie opened his mouth, about to argue, but snapped it shut. He couldn’t say that Cisco’s life wasn’t important. But that was the thing, wasn’t it?  
“That was still Barry. And someone else would have...and he said…”  
“Dude. Caitlin says you’re fragile and/or traumatized or something, which is probably why she’s not letting Iris beat it into your head that we care, but do we realllly have to go through the “your great great grandkid is a time traveling mass murderer who stole someone else’s face thing, again? That doesn’t scream “believable” or “trustworthy” or “totally not lying to you,” it just doesn’t. But what do I know? I just know him about as well as anyone still alive. Or, currently alive? Time travel’s supposed to be cool, not give me a headache.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it, ok? Always being the family screw up, being told you aren’t good enough, always being on the outside, and then you finally get something good and it falls apart? Been there. Still there, more or less, and I get it. But moping about it and saying it’s true isn’t going to fix anything. It won’t make it stop. The only thing that makes it stop is to tell that stupid, idiotic, right part of you that it can go screw itself. Maybe you don’t marry Iris in one timeline. Big whoop. I’m dead in one timeline. What matters is…what we make of it, I guess? And if you don’t feel like you fit...if you think, maybe, no one cares as much as they say…” Cisco got a faraway, pained look in his eye, but shook his head. “Then you fight for it. Cuz that’s all there is. Making a place where we fit. Making a family and not letting go, no matter how hard things get. Yeah?”  
“I guess…” Eddie murmured.  
“ My point is, he lies, we care about you, you’ve made a bigger difference than you think, and for God’s sake, finish that soup you malnourished goldfish.”  
“...did you just call me a goldfish?” Eddie asked.  
“Is that the only part you took in?” Cisco shot back.  
“No.” Eddie took a deep breath. “Thanks, Cisco.”

Cisco grinned at him, an infectious smile that masked some of the pain they both still felt. “Any time, man. But seriously. Eat your soup.”  
  
_The world offers itself to your imagination,  
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --   
over and over announcing your place   
in the family of things._ __  
  
  



	64. Rogues' Leverage pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Barry, "I'm so sorry" also prompt from GreenGlowsGold to continue my AU of Rogue Air.

In the chaos of the fight, Firestorm and Barry and Oliver against the Reverse Flash, Cisco slipped away, finding one of the empty offices. He took a com with him, to monitor, to reassure, but—he needed to find a space for himself, where he didn’t have to see the lightning, or feel Caitlin watching him, concerned. If not for the fight going on outside, smashing up cars and windows, Cisco was pretty sure she’d try to mother-hen him, and Caitlin wasn’t so great at Mother-henning. So he’d slipped away. Besides when they won, he didn’t want to see Dr. Wel—Eobard Thawne. Dead, alive, he didn’t care, so long as he never had to get near him ever again.  
  
Cisco was usually the last person on the planet to crave solitude, but just now, he needed some, even if he’d been alone with his own thoughts for ages earlier. God, so many things in the last few hours, so many things that could have gone wrong. What if the trap had worked, and Barry’d come to save him and gotten locked in the back of the truck? His own tech, used once again to hurt people he cared about—the thought made Cisco ill. Of course, Barry had come, but as much as Cisco knew he should focus on that, not worry about what ifs, he still couldn’t shake the feeling of _Someday, Barry’ll make a choice, and it won’t be you._ He already had, after all, the night that they’d tried to trick Wells. Barry hadn’t moved until Joe shot at Everyman. Bates. If that had really been Eobard…  
_It wasn’t. And, the first time, he only killed me because he didn’t want anyone else to know, but he knew that everyone else already did, so…maybe he wouldn’t…_ Cisco swallowed the urge to throw up. Thawne could have killed him, and Barry hadn’t done anything. _It’s his dad. It’s his mom. That’s worth more. Right? I mean, family, and justice, and…that’s all it is. The way it goes. Just, be glad to be alive. Can’t focus on everything that might have happened._ It was old advice, useless. Cisco knew that, nothing would stop him from dwelling on the past, not even his own peptalks. Even trying not to focus on what had happened two weeks ago, events that still blurred in blue-black dreams, there was so much else to take its place.  
  
Like earlier. When Snart had altered the deal and taken off, and oh God, all those murderer metas were free because Barry hadn’t been able to give chase right away. That was on him. And if Snart had caught Barry....  
Still, at the same time, he couldn’t help but be selfish, and wonder what might have happened if Barry had chosen fighting Eobard over him this time? How long would Snart have held off Mist and Prism and Weather Wizard, before they tried to get some revenge for being locked up? How long would Snart had held on to him—a few hours? Until they found a better hideout? Forever? Would Snart and his crew have gone after Caitlin or Dante to force him to make more weapons, or would they really have only wanted him to keep Barry off their backs? It was too much uncertainty, and Cisco couldn’t stave off the fear that they’d try again. Sure, this had been an opportune time, but what would happen the next time the Rogues needed to hold something over Barry’s head, or the Cold Gun needed an upgrade? And what if next time, Barry chose something else, something more important?  
  
He hadn’t realized the com had gone dead, or that ages had passed, until the door swung open with a frantic bang and burst of gold lightning. He jolted, but relaxed a little when he saw that it was Barry.  
“I found him, it’s ok,” Barry said into the com on his suit, before shutting it off. “Uh, Cisco? You are ok, right? I know there wasn’t a lot of time to make sure, but—“  
“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” Cisco said a little too quickly.  
Barry frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t sound fine.”  
“Just needed to be alone.”  
“Ok, now I know you aren’t fine. Seriously, you know you can talk to me, right?”  
“Can I?” Cisco asked sharply, before wincing. “Sorry, I…”  
Barry joined him on the floor of the office. “No, I think I deserve that. I shouldn’t have gone to Snart. I shouldn’t have trusted him, and I shouldn’t have left you alone with any of them. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  
Cisco shrugged awkwardly. “You had other things to worry about.”  
Barry shook his head. “I still should have been looking out for you. I haven’t been doing a good job of that, and---what’s the point of being this, being the Flash, if I can’t try to keep the people I care about safe?”  
  
Cisco blinked, otherwise almost totally frozen, very much like a startled rabbit. He couldn’t think of anything to say. How was he supposed to respond to that? Saying “ no, it’s fine” was a lie, but how could he say “Yeah, you’re right, you almost let me die and that sucked of you,” to Barry, who looked agonized, like he’d been beating himself up for it for days, keeping it in the way Cisco rarely spoke up?  
“And, Joe tried to tell me I’m too, I dunno, good hearted, that’s why I didn’t see it coming but I should have. Snart as good as told me at the bar.”  
Now Cisco shook free of the paralysis. “What?”  
Barry held a crumpled napkin in one hand. “When I first asked for his…help. He didn’t ask for his records cleared. I told him to forget it, impossible, not going to happen, I thought the records thing was enough, but I should have known…But I didn’t. I didn’t think.”  
Cisco took the napkin, carefully. _Francisco Ramon._ He read his own name, and read it again, not understanding until he did.  
Maybe the past couldn’t be erased, or forgotten ( _forgiven)_ and maybe none of this was over, and their lives were going to get more complicated, more painful, but—maybe it wasn’t what had happened so much as what happened now, that mattered. Choices made now because of choices before. They were alive. Eobard was—Cisco wasn’t sure, but he assumed Eobard was contained. Snart was in the wind, but far off in the wind.  
  
And Barry had made the choice to come for him hours before he’d even needed rescue. __  
  
  
  



	65. Sight for Sore Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted from Tumblr conversation with fauxsciencedork, Harry and Cisco, Harry getting upset with Cisco's inability to find Jesse. Set before 2x09

“Ramon, I need you over here.” Cisco glanced up from his desk at Harry, and back down to his project.  
“Can Barry or Jay do it, I’ve got…” Cisco sighed at the Look on Harry’s face. How did two people from separate worlds with totally separate memories and experiences have the same “get over here now and stop whining” look? “You could at least say “please,” he grumbled at last.  
He peered at what Harry had on his desk, and frowned.  
“What?”  
“I need you to Vibe on this.” Harry gestured at a tiny scrap of cloth, pale purple. It looked fuzzy, but old. Worn.

“Um. One,” he counted off fingers, “I thought you didn’t want me to do that and two, what does that have to do with hunting down the rest of the rogues and three—“  
“It’s Jesse’s. I need you to make sure she’s alive. And any other information we can use to rescue her, since your Flash isn’t getting faster quick enough, focusing on these minor threats instead of what really matters.”  
Cisco wanted to bristle—hunting down a mass murderer who could turn into poison gas was hardly ‘minor’—but at the same time, Jesse…This wasn’t her fault, and he still saw her face in his nightmares, so pale and scared. He didn’t want to see that again, but if it could help her… He swallowed. “Ok.”  
He hesitated for a moment, fingers trembling as he reached down to the scrap. Nothing happened.  
“Well?” Harry snapped. Cisco flinched.  
“I told you, I can’t control it.” Cisco pinched the bit of cloth, closing his eyes, willing it to work, willing himself to see something, anything--  
The world shuddered and shattered and went blue.  
_She was still caged, but this time her hands were not bound to the top bars. Seeing her curled up in the ground, she seemed tiny, fragile, terrified. Cisco tried to step forward, even knowing he couldn’t, tried to look around the room to see or understand, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the brighter patch of pale blue tinted light. It was like a damn spotlight, like a stage light, but he didn’t know if that was the vibe or how the room was set up. Long seconds ticked by, the air in his chest like lead, but he couldn’t make himself turn more than a little bit. A few things stood out, but nothing obvious. A plain table, the shadows of bars, a panel of switches. Then, as if a toddler had been given access to a strobe light, everything flickered, as wash of blue-grey-brown before settling back, disorientingly, to the muted colors of STAR Labs._

Cisco fell back against the wall, one hand clutching his head. Now more than ever he empathized with Harry Potter, no wonder he’d acted how he had in book five, terrible headache, murder visions, PTSD…  
“Where is she?” Harry asked the second he blinked the world back into focus. Cisco shook his head.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize—it was just a room. Some kind of cage in one wall. Nothing familiar, no names or anything.”

“Try again, then.” Harry pointed at the bit of baby blanket that had fallen back to the table top.  
“Look, she wasn’t hurt, she’s doing ok, I mean, as ok as she can—I don’t think trying again will change what I see…” Cisco ducked his head at that look.  
He could practically hear the voices (his mother, his Abuela, Joe, Caitlin, Barry, everyone) telling him not to be selfish, that this was an innocent girl, that Harry wasn’t Wells, and he needed to man up and just deal with it. That, if he didn’t use his powers for this, for good, then what kind of hero was he? What kind of _person_ was he?  
He picked up the square of cloth, rolling it in his hand, hoping for something else, something useful.   
A blue flash shot through his vision, harsh as Zoom’s lightning and wasn’t that a pleasant thought? _It was the same room, so vast, dim. A different angle but still the same scene, he thought. Jesse was still curled in on herself, shaking but breathing. Her patterned blouse was stained, but he couldn’t tell if it was dirt or soot or blood. “Jesse,” he breathed, trying to move, to get to her, even knowing this was just a vision, he wasn’t really there. She didn’t turn. He forced his gaze away, desperate for some hint, some clue to the location. Nothing. No signs, no maps, what did he expect, a “you are here” kiosk?_

Cisco rubbed a hand across his face, feeling weak and drained. He looked for his slushie, his mouth dry, but Harry stopped his movement.   
“Tell me what you saw, tell me where my daughter is.”  
“I-- didn’t-“  
“TELL ME.” The roar cut through the haze and Cisco instinctively jolted backwards, colliding with the wall behind him.   
“I don’t know! I can’t control them, I just saw her, nothing else, give me a minute and—“ Cisco didn’t get the chance to finish as Harry raised a hand above his head and pushed it home, pressing the fabric above Cisco’s heart. The light behind his eyelids where he’d closed them against memory turned from dull orange to blue. _She’d shifted, she was looking through him this time, her face smudged and pinched and pale, and Cisco turned too, all the way this time though there was effort in it, the blue flares making him blink rapidly. The wall behind him was plane, empty, no clues there. There was dirt on the floor, but not much, it felt like maybe it was underground, but he couldn’t be sure. He had to find something! Some name, some word, anything. Fire spread through his head, behind his eyes, down into his chest as he fought to hold on to the vibe—_

 And failed, a shudder wracking through him. “Enough, ok, I told you, I can’t control what I see, so leave off!”  
“You don’t get it, do you? You really don’t.” Harry glowered, still standing between Cisco and the rest of the room, Cisco and _escape. “_ I have a month. I have a month to find her, Ramon, so you are going to get me a location. Now. Or so help me--.”  
“You’re crazy,” Cisco panted, struggling to keep upright.  
“No, I’m a father, trying to save my child.”  
As soon as the now sweat-streaked bit of flannel touched him, Cisco’s hearing faded and sight failed as his little labspace, his former safe haven, again took on the blue sheen of Jesse’s prison.

* * *

  
Iris didn’t stop by STAR Labs often when there wasn’t an emergency, or Barry wasn’t there, but she’d wanted to talk to Caitlin, so there she was, even though both Barry and her dad were busy at the station.  
Caitlin wasn’t at her desk, which made Iris frown. “Hello?” she called. No answer. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and sent a text. One came back fairly quickly, **Sorry! Harry asked Jay to get pics of breach areas, I was bored. Need anything?  
** Iris snorted, trust Caitlin to use grammar in a casual text, and fired back **nah b safe.** It wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait, after all. Still something irked her. Maybe it was her reporter’s intuition, maybe it was just the common sense no one else in this little ragged family seemed to have, but something felt off. Slowly she started down the main hallway, until she came to one door partway open, and froze.

In that moment, she knew there was no way on earth she could ever blame Patty for having shot at Harry, because he was standing over Cisco, Cisco who looked horrible, his face pale and eyes screwed shut against pain or—one of his visions, she realized, horrorstruck. Whatever he’d seen released him, but no sooner had he shaken his head than Harry jabbed at him with something. Cisco gave a tiny cry, and Iris saw red. Numb with fury, she gripped the door with both hands and slipped inside, counting on the fact that Harry was to busy watching whatever he was doing to her friend to notice.

 Reaching for the first weapon she could, she paused, then bellowed, “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Harry turned just in time to catch the leg of a desk chair across his temple. He went down hard, not even twitching. Iris dropped the chair in favor of reaching Cisco, still stuck in the daze. When it ended a heartbeat after she’d reached him, he crumpled.  
“Oh, god, Cisco,” she breathed. “Hey, hey it’s ok, what happened?” Gingerly, she slid his arm over her shoulder, trying to act as a crutch. She wanted to get him out of here, pronto.  
“I can’t see where she is,” he said miserably.  
“Uh—that’s ok, no one expects you to be all seeing.” Iris reached for her phone, hitting Barry’s speed dial and not bothering to talk when he answered. He’d know to follow the tracker in the phone, which meant coming to STAR Labs. “Here, sit—“ Cisco sat in Caitlin’s chair as Barry burst into the cortex.  
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Are you hurt, what happened?”  
“I don’t know,” Iris admitted. “But I saw him forcing Cisco to do his vibe thing, and Barry I know he’s not the same man, but he hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”  
“Wait, what? Who—“ Barry blinked, looking from Iris to Cisco.  
“Harry,” Cisco murmured. “I couldn’t find Jesse. I wasn’t trying hard enough, I..”  
“Stop it,” Iris said. “It’s not your fault. Barry, I may have given Wells a concussion—just a little one—but until this gets sorted out, my votes for one of the little time out pods you’ve got in the basement.   
“Cisco, is that what happened?” Barry asked, his outline blurred slightly.  
Cisco swallowed dryly—Iris passed him a water bottle from the desk top—and started to speak. “I wanted to help, I did, I promise, but I couldn’t and he got mad…”  
The look on Barry’s face was pure anger, though it was nothing compared to Iris’s expression.  
“Yeah, I think some alone time might be a good idea for Har—Harrison.” Barry vanished and returned, holding Cisco’s slushy, half melted. Cisco took it with shaking hands.  
“I think we should call Joe,” Barry sighed.  
“I think we should sic Patty on Dr. Jerkface.” Iris said bluntly. “But Dad’s probably the better call.”  
Cisco made a small noise, and Iris nodded, rolling her eyes.  
“Yes, Cisco, I know it’s a terrible nickname.”  
“I was going to say ‘thanks for saving me’, but…you’re right. It’s a terrible nickname. I can let it slide this time, though. He deserves a shitty nickname, even if he isn’t—“  
“Who he isn’t doesn’t matter.” Iris said firmly. “What matters his who he is and what he’s done. And he’s been a jerkface.” She nodded, folding her arms as if that were the end of it.  
Neither of them felt like arguing.


	66. Chapter 66

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Martin Stein, "I know you can hear me"  
> Set in an AU of 1X14

Martin Stein wanted to blame the way the world went fuzzy on the fact that this body hadn’t had to deal with alcohol in roughly fifteen months, and on the fact that honestly he’s old, and under a great deal of stress, but then his knees buckled. Before he completely lost awareness, he knew that this was definitely a sign of trouble, not simply being a lightweight. At least Ronald was with friends who could protect him, and Clarissa had been sent far from the city—she’d always wanted a non-working vacation. He only hoped that Harrison Wells managed to sound some kind of alarm, but that was all he had time to think.  
*~*  
Cisco had only stopped by STAR Labs to grab a few things before heading back to the West house, but stopped dead as he rounded a corner and saw the same creepy general dude who’d tried to kidnap Ronnie, the one who’d killed Bette. And he wasn’t alone. _Crap._ In the millisecond that Cisco wavered between _Punch him in the face_ , _Call Barry,_ and _Run,_ General Eiling spotted him. In the heartbeat after, Cisco found himself being grabbed by both arms, and the barrel of a gun pressed into the small of his back by some of Eiling’s creeps.  
“Ok, in case you missed lesson one, kidnapping people is super mega illegal. And this is private property, so—ow!”  
“Don’t try me, boy,” Eiling warned him. “I’ve invested too much in this to let it go now.”  
Cisco hoped that by “it” General Douchebag meant the situation, but he had the sinking suspicion that he meant the professor, which, oh buddy, that was definitely in the top ten of Bad Implications.   
“Sir?” Asked Thug 1, squeezing Cisco’s arm even tighter.   
“We can’t have him running off to warn someone, now can we?” The smile didn’t reach Eiling’s eyes. “Bring him.”  
  
*~*

“Professor?” Cisco whispered again. Thugs 1-3 had tossed him and Martin both into the back of a van and they’d been driving for hours, now. Or what Cisco thought must have been hours, then again, he sucked at telling time without a watch and they’d taken all his electronics. If he hadn’t been scared for his life, he’d have been pissed. Frankly, he was pissed anyway, talk about rude, they could have at least left him something to fiddle with, hell, he’d have settled for paperclips. Of course, they’d knotted his hands behind him in his own jacket, so it wasn’t as if he could do anything with paperclips even if he had them. “I know you can hear me. I hope. Please wake up, so we can figure out how we’re going to get out of here. C’mon, I can’t do this by myself and it’s _creepy._ ” With an angry/frustrated/scared sigh, Cisco poked the unconscious man with his foot, then again. “C’mon, Martin, wake up.” _Dios Mio, where’s Caitlin and her smelling salts when you need them?_ Cisco thought before shaking his head. No, he didn’t want Caitlin here, that would be even worse, because that would mean Eiling had her, too, and Ronnie, and… ”This is my fault.”  
A groan met his ears. “I hardly see how this is your fault, though I’m not entirely certain what exactly ‘this’ is.”  
“If I hadn’t locked Ronnie in, neither of you would have become Firestorm and—“  
“And you know this for a fact, Mr. Ramon?”  
“Well, no…”  
“Then it’s not terribly relevant, is it. Change one thing, change everything else, and what good does that do you? Finding someone to blame isn’t going to get us out of—where are we?”  
“A truck. Not sure where we’re going. Probably some shady off the books military compound.”  
“Lovely,” Stein winced, sitting up. “Then I suppose we’d better come up with some kind of plan. Might I recommend one that does not include bemoaning the past.” He gave Cisco a barely visible smile, a little too grim, a little too wan, but there. Cisco nodded, then vocalized.   
“Yeah, I’m in. Got anything in mind?”  
“You know, I think I do.”


	67. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Laurel, "I'm not cut out for this"

“Ok, I’m not cut out for this,” Cisco wheezed, leaning over to brace his hands on his knees. Laurel tapped his shoulder, gently.  
“If that was a knife, you’d be dead.” Oliver called from the sidelines.  
“Oliver, be nice.” Laurel sighed. She grimaced sympathetically. “Though, he is right.”  
“I know,” Cisco rubbed sweat from his face. “That’s why I said I’m really not cut out for this. Just gimme a second.”  
“You know, criminals won’t let you take a nap—“Oliver started, but Cisco threw up his hands.  
“Again, I know. Two weeks ago I was being held hostage by freaking Captain Cold, believe me, I know they won’t give me a break, that’s the whole reason I’m doing this training thing. I knew I should have just joined a gym.”  
“Oliver, you started somewhere, too, so maybe knock it off, okay? Go do your grumpy broody bull somewhere else, it’s not helping.” Laurel glowered over at him. He glowered back, petulant. “Ignore him. This isn’t the battlefield, and you’re only just getting used to this level. We can take it slower, that’s why we train.”  
“But I have to get better, for the next time…” Cisco shrugged. “I can’t let anyone get the drop on me, and even hiding behind mission control…that doesn’t mean I’m safe. People could have died, because I…”  
“You don’t get better if you work yourself to death,” Laurel told him, both hands on his shoulders, adjusting his stance.    
“Yes you do,” came Oliver’s voice.   
“So help me, Oliver,” Laurel snapped. “You realize I know where you live, right? And I can destroy all your windows really easily? You’re not helping.”  
Cisco thought he heard the Arrow mutter something like “Touchy,” before he wandered off.  
“He’s right, though,” Cisco checked his feet.   
“Oliver is many things, and sometimes, right is even one of them, but not this time. Believe me, Cisco. And you are cut out for this. You’ve been getting better, and quick, plus, there are things you can do no one else can.” She tapped the sonic device lightly. “And we’d be dead without that. So don’t worry about not being an expert fighter just yet. We’re all constantly learning, you know? Getting past…stuff. You wanna try that drill again, or should we call it and get some lunch?”  
“Try again? I think I know what I did wrong with the kick last time.” Cisco took a breath, settling back into the now familiar stance.  “And, thanks, Laurel. You’re a good teacher.” Laurel grinned.   
“I have a diligent student, that helps. Show me what you got.”  



	68. Flock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin, Bette, "I said I'd do anything"  
> AU where screw Canon she's not dead.

“Bette, are you sure you want to do this?” Caitlin asked the other woman, frowning slightly. She still felt terrible, down in the Pipeline, and not just because they kept Nimbus down there.  
“Dr. Snow, really, it’s safer for me if I can’t—I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” Bette shrugged a shoulder, but Caitlin knew body language. She looked terrified. “I’ve been through worse.”  
Caitlin reached out to touch the other woman’s shoulder, gently. Bette flinched away. “ Stop, I don’t want—“

“From the tests, it looks like it’s only what you touch, not the other way around—oh.” Caitlin drew back, realizing. “I’m sorry, I forgot…what they…”  
“I don’t want to talk about it, Doctor.” Bette pressed her lips together. “And, I’d like to be alone.”   
Caitlin left, feet padding away silently, setting the pipeline door mechanism, and the box slipped back onto its track.  
Bette sank down against the cushioning, specially made by Cisco and Harrison Wells to not react to her touch. The rest of the cell was bare, but that was what she preferred. No chance of turning a blanket or a cot into a bomb—she’d done that once, Before. That was how Eiling had learned that her own bombs didn’t do as much damage to her as they should have, as if the shrapnel they created was nothing. After a moment, she put her head between her knees, tucked up against her chest, and cried.  
~*~ 

Caitlin returned an hour later with lunch, and news.  
“Cisco rigged your, uh, quarters special. There’s a screen that’ll come down if you want it, and it’s all voice activated, so you don’t need to touch anything if you want to watch a movie, or check the internet or something. There are some audio books, things like that. Or if you need to talk to us, since we turned the cameras off.” Caitlin hesitated. “Are you sure you’re ok? It doesn’t feel right, putting you in our basement prison.”  
“It’s not a prison for me, Caitlin,” Bette shook her head. “It’s…safe. It’s been a long time since I felt safe.”  
Caitlin winced. “I’m not sure what exactly we can do, but don’t worry, we’re not going to let that general lay a hand on you ever again.”  
Bette shrugged again tucking her hands under her. “You can’t promise that. What’s to say he won’t come back here, that …that my being here doesn’t put you all at risk?”  
Caitlin chewed her lip. “It’s a risk we’ll take,” she said at last. “Let us know if you need anything, ok?” 

So set the pattern for the next several days, Bette keeping mostly quiet, to the point that they might have forgotten she was there if not for meals. Sometimes she spoke to them, or Cisco would come down to watch a movie with her, but mostly she stayed quiet. One evening, though, as Caitlin was getting ready to leave, she heard the screaming. Cisco’d set the audio function so that if there was an emergency, Bette could reach them without having to tell the system to patch her through, and the sound sent a wave of ice down Caitlin’s neck and spine. She raced for the stairs, taking them three at a time until she reached the keypad. When Bette’s cell reached her, Caitlin saw the soldier, huddled in a corner, shaking. She didn’t hesitate, just opened the door and raced inside, stumbling at the soft floor.   
“What’s wrong, what’s happened, Bette, look at me.”  
Bette looked, her eyes red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, it was just a dream.”  
“That didn’t sound like a dream to me. Nightmare, maybe, dream, no. But something tells me it wasn’t that either.”  
Bette took a shaking breath, and nodded. “Memories. Sometime’s I’m ok, but—PTSD, and all, can’t control it, can’t…but it wasn’t about my Tour.” Caitlin sat beside her, putting a hand on the floor close enough for Bette to take, if she chose. Bette continued. “I was in a coma for some of it, but…God, I remember them cutting me, they wouldn’t stop. I said I’d do anything, just stop, please, but they didn’t, they wouldn’t. Just kept…They said, it was for my own good, for the good of my country.” She shook her head bitterly. “Like hell it was.”  
“It’s over, now,” Caitlin offered, wishing she knew what to say. “It’s over, I’m here. No one’s going to do that to you, ever again.”  
“I’ve just been so scared, ever since—and I shouldn’t be scared, I’m a bomb, I can defend myself, I can fight, but I just…I can’t…I thought I could…but whenever I close my eyes, I just, I’m powerless again, trapped again, and…”  
“You’re not alone, you know. You don’t have to do this alone. Dr. Wells and I, we’ll find something to help with your powers, Cisco’s working on a fabric that will block it. Your control is getting really good, too. And until then, we’re here for you. Not just to keep you safe. But if you need to talk, or just…need a friend, or…” Caitlin trailed off. “Someone to keep watch. Even sheepdogs have to sleep.”


	69. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Cisco, "Stop lying"  
> (set in a nebulous AU after a kidnapping, maybe this is an AU of Rogue Time or pt 1 of Rogues Leverage or something idk)

 It had taken Cisco all of  twenty minutes after meeting her to know that he never wanted to be glared at, lectured by, or in the way of Iris West, and he was happy to say that he’d succeeded with that. Even Caitlin rarely yelled, but that was more her personality and their friendship, and honestly if she yelled, he deserved it. Cisco was pretty proud of his ability to calm things down, usually.  
Still, he hadn’t expected Barry of all people to have quiet that level of disappointed-in-you, the kind of temper like dry ice that smoked beneath the surface. And he certainly hadn’t done anything he could think of to deserve it, but Barry was looking at him, tight lipped. Cisco offered a smile—Barry trusted him by now, right? They’d been friends for months, he had to know—shit, what if he thought Cisco hadn’t cared about keeping his identity secret, hadn’t valued that trust?

“Um, do you need something?” Cisco asked, rubbing the back of his neck, wishing that Joe or someone else might show up, calm things down.  
“Yeah. I need you to stop lying.” Barry’s voice wasn’t angry, at least, not like how he’d sounded when he’d yelled at villainy people. He sounded more tired. Cisco blinked, but then the words registered.  
“I’m not, I swear,” he yelped. “I wouldn’t—“  
“You told the cops you were fine. You told me and Caitlin you were fine. But you aren’t. I’m not stupid, Cisco.” Barry didn’t zip or race or flash into the room, just walked, sinking onto a chair. “And, you asked earlier, if I was mad. I am. You don’t trust me. And, I know I’ve been kind of a shitty friend, but…if you don’t trust me enough to tell me when you’re hurting…how’m I supposed to fix that? I’m not stupid, but maybe you’ve noticed, mind reading and—and all that, really reading how bad something is, those aren’t powers I have.”

Cisco nodded, cracking a smile at the last, but then shrugged. “I really am fine. It wasn’t…I’m used to it, now.”  
“Being used to something doesn’t make it ok. I can’t make you fess up, but I _can_ tell Caitlin about your cracked rib if you don’t.”  
“I didn’t want to worry her, you were the one with all the—“  
“Cisco, it’s Caitlin, she’s worried anyway. I don’t know if she’s ever not been worried.”  
“Fair. That’s fair. Um. Look.” Cisco hesitated. “You know I do trust you, right? I just…I’m not really that important. I get that, I do. Compared to you, or –or anyone…I just don’t.”

Barry frowned. “Maybe you should quit lying to yourself, too.”


	70. Protected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Barry, "I needed you and you weren't there"

Cisco had never been a great judge of time passing. It didn’t matter if he was busy working on something and two AM came and went in what really couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since dinner-time, or if he was completely alone with nothing to do and he looked at a clock twelve times only to see that thirty-five seconds had passed. Given his druthers, he’d have gone with the first one, but no one had asked what he prefered when the group of criminals had grabbed him on his way home from the police station just after five.

From what he’d gathered–they argued as loudly as Barry and Harry and Joe did–he wasn’t bait for the Flash, which was a small comfort. Honestly, it seemed like they didn’t even know he was connected to Barry. On the one hand, that meant he wasn’t likely to get tortured for information, which was a bonus he’d take. On the other hand, it also decreased chances of Barry finding out he was missing in a timely manner. Hah. Time. Man, he wished he had a watch. Or a clock. The room he was in he was pretty sure was the abandoned middle school, which was rightfully abandoned, thing didn’t have windows in the classrooms, but there were marks on the walls where whiteboards-chalkboards?–had hung and been taken down, a peeling scrap of a timeline of the Discovery of that atom on one wall. Cisco wasn’t sure if it had been half an hour or half a day, but he’d memorized the poorly worded scrap of banner.

Downstairs, he could make out a little more arguing, and bristled when he heard one say “the kid,” he was twenty-freaking-three, not twelve. “Telling you,…..built the stuff at IH.” He was pretty sure that was the ringleader. “ Get counter…out of him. Beat the tech the pigs…little pet nerd….consultant…won’t risk.”  
Right. Cisco forced his breathing calm, looking around for another exit. Like the first fifty-two times since he’d been shoved inside the room with a sack over his head, now discarded, there were two doors, one locked and dark on the underside, looking like a supply closet, and the other also locked with a wedge of wood shoved flush with the floor. No way out, except to sit and wait, and hope that what they were saying–and this had to be the group of potential metahuman petty thieves and small time crooks the cops had been after, ones that were far less of a priority than the Reverse Flash had been, or Zoom was–didn’t mean what he thought it did. They knew he was the metahuman and tech consultant for the police, that he was the one helping them catch and contain metahuman criminals, and if “get counter” meant “ get counter-measures out of him”…  
Looping his bound hands around his knees, drawn up to his chest, Cisco did the only thing he could. He waited, closing his eyes and listening. His own heartbeat. Footsteps. One of the women in the group yelling about someone messing with her stuff. Sirens. More yelling, louder footsteps, more sirens.

Cisco’s eyes flew open at the door he’d tried to smash with a now very bruised shoulder splintered. A wave of people spilled in, some in uniform, others not. He recognized them, all of them. Officer Maliel, Officer Thompson, Detective Rheems, Officer Danvers, Detective Kent and her partner Detective Calhoun, Joe, and Captain Singh, even. He gaped, sighing a breath of relief.

“Thanks,” he murmured as Maliel cut the rope at his wrists and Thompson helped him to his feet.

“You’re one of ours,” Singh answered, his voice sharp but not unkind. “Are you hurt?”  
Cisco shook his head, still a little dazed.

“Good,” Kent said, offering him a waterbottle. “Here, let’s get you home.”

Home turned out to be the police station, still in full chaos mode. No sooner than he was through the door than Barry was there, hugging him. He might have been in civvies, but Cisco knew the smell of smoke and there was concrete dust in his hair.

“I didn’t know until Joe got called in, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was looking, I promise, I–”   
Cisco nodded. “It’s..ok.” he said. “You were busy.” Barry looked pained.  
“No it’s not ok! I let them take you, I didn’t come when you needed me, again.”  
“No,” Cisco said. “You can’t be everywhere at once. And…” He looked around the room, the sea of police and personnel. “Yeah, I needed you and you weren’t there…but they were, and that was enough.” 

  It was enough, Cisco realized. He mattered to more than just a handful of friends, he’d been the subject of a rescue mission like something out of the movies. And that was enough.  
Behind him on the wall, the clock struck seven.


	71. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Eobard "I'm not going anywhere"

Bad dreams were nothing new to Cisco. Everyone has the occasional nightmare, he’s never been any different. After the mess with the Particle Accelerator, dreams of Ronnie dying, dreams of being frozen and unable to tweak the machinery so that everyone died anyway, dreams of watching the world vaporized joined the normal nightmares, the kind everyone gets. Cisco never thought he’d miss dreams of running through his maze of a high school trying to get to his French class for a final exam, only to realize he didn’t take French and had graduated years ago. But having nightmares where your boss shredded your heart with his hand had the effect of making everything horrible from before rose colored.  
  
He hated those dreams, and had to admit, only part of the reason he let Caitlin and Barry use them to see what had happened had really been to learn something useful to stop Wells. Part of it, selfish though it seemed, was the vain hope that if he faced it, saw what the dreams wanted him to see, really remembered, then they’d go away and leave him in peace. They hadn’t, but by then, Cisco was used to it. It was lucky that he had a decent stockpile of energy drinks, because he was determined to never sleep again except when absolutely unavoidable.

And, he had to admit, at least he was getting better, when he did dream, at realizing, at fighting back, at remembering that it was a dream. “Not real,” he told the advancing Eobard Thawne. “You’re not real, this already happened and I’m not dead!” Sometimes, that was enough. Sometimes, he still felt the cold sting of lightning as a hand plunged into his chest and he dropped, only to wake.

So he didn’t sleep, much, and hid his fear. They all had too much to deal with, first with Eddie missing, then with Thawne caught, and Barry’s desperate hope to save his mother. And then in the time it took a bullet wound to bleed, everything changed. Eobard faded away, turning into blue gleaming so very like the wormhole through time, so like the flashes that caught at his vision whenever he dreamed. Cisco didn’t sleep that night, but no one did, too busy trying to pull everything back together. The next days were working to the dropping point, trying to find some way to keep breathing with Ronnie gone, Eddie dead, the city in shambles. But they managed, somehow. And, yes, Cisco sighed out dust more than air, but it was relief, too. They had lost so much, but the man in Yellow was gone, gone where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.  
  
Well, one person. Over and over in nightmares he couldn’t fend off, Cisco saw the events of the last year, but now one memory came more and more often, until Cisco realized he’d rather have the murder dreams instead.  
“ _Cisco, help me!”_ his one-time killer, his friend’s mother’s murderer, called, an order, but desperate, in dream after dream.  
“You’re dead! You’re dead and gone, leave me alone!” Dream-Cisco shouted in the blue tinted and frozen pipeline the first time he lucid dreamed it instead of simply waking in a cold sweat.  
“ _I’m not gone. I’m right here, always here. You can’t hide from memories. You can’t hide from destiny. I’m not going anywhere_ ,” the voice echoed even has the man dissolved. Cisco stood in the pipeline, feeling solid ground under dream-feet, closed his eyes, woke up in his own bed.  
“Just a dream, a dream, it’s over.” He murmured to himself, but he knew that “over” only meant until the next night


	72. betray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Harry, "I said I'd do anything"

Barry finished putting away the suit, cleaning off the smudge marks from the mud as best he could. If he didn’t, he was bound to spot Cisco doing it the next day and get a whole host of comments about taking care of it, and Cisco had enough on his plate. Plus, it was soothing after all that running, a nice way to spend a few minutes on a Sunday evening. STAR Labs felt empty, but Barry’d expected that, he’d found out about the landslide and lost hikers out in the Badlands on his own, not from what Iris called his Mission Control. Still, it felt odd, so he was a touch relieved to hear another voice, even Harry’s.  
“Mr. Allen, is that you? I could use a hand with this,” the other man called from the workroom he shared with Cisco.   
“Coming,” Barry called back, walking normally—he’d run quite a bit in the last half hour, and it didn’t sound terribly urgent. Plus, the last time he’d run into Cisco’s lab, he’s crashed into a desk, and Caitlin had lectured him, and that was bad enough without Harry looking at him like he couldn’t do anything right.

Reaching the open door, Barry couldn’t see anyone. As soon as he stepped across the threshold, though, he felt a surge of wrongness and weakness as something clamped around his neck. He bolted, or tried to, but his legs refused to work and his knees gave way. Reaching up in dazed confusion, his fingers touched metal before a set of hands dragged his arms down. Startled green eyes spotted Harry, standing over him, pinning his hands.

“Harry? What did—“ Barry’s tongue felt very in his mouth, his whole body felt dimmed and drained and deadweight, he couldn’t feel the lightning that had sung in his tendons for so long.

“Ramon’s technology isn’t that far off from my own, it just needed to be condensed,” Harry said, his tone light, almost casual. “Modified.”  
“What the hell?” Barry managed, trying to jerk away, trying to push back to his feet but unable.   
“I worry you will think this is personal,” Harry went on. “It’s not. But Zoom has my daughter, and I told you I’d do anything to get her back. Unfortunately, this is that Anything.”  
“We…we were helping you,” Barry managed as understanding filtered in. Betrayed. Harry had betrayed him, had betrayed all of them. Was he going to trade him to Zoom, then, just hand him over like a lamb to slaughter? “You can’t trust Zoom.”  
“I can trust him to kill her if I don’t deliver what I promised,” Harry said sharply, pulling Barry up and shoving him into a chair. The collar around his neck leeched his strength, but Barry still struggled as Harry secured him there with tape and cables from the work station. “Harry, don’t do this, we can still help you, we can still save her.”  
Harry shook his head. “You’re right, we can still save her. And this is how. I am sorry it had to turn out like this, Flash.”  
Barry sagged against the bindings, heaving for air, the collar-- had he called it Cisco’s tech? The power dampeners, like the Boot, but worse, it had to be that—so tight across his windpipe that he could hardly breathe. He tried futilely to vibrate through them, but the only shaking he could manage was a tremor of fear. Zoom was coming, Zoom would take him.  
A horrible thought crossed his mind, juxtaposed with the empty labs, and Harry’s refusal to let anything stop him from saving Jesse. Anything, or Anyone.  
“What did you do with the others?” he rasped out. “What did you do to Caitlin, and Cisco, and Jay?” Harry’s shoulders stiffened.   
“Believe what you want, Allen, but I’m not a monster. This,” he motioned to Barry’s chair, “I tried to avoid, but it’s become a necessity. With you gone and defeated, Zoom will have no reason to continue terrorizing this earth. I am not a needlessly cruel, petty, face stealing madman. Your friends are unharmed. Mild headaches from the sedatives, possibly, but they are …safe, in your little pipeline, and they’ll stay that way...” Harry paused, then straightened, looking Barry in the eyes. There was no hint of remorse there, not apology, no regret. “As long as you cooperate.”  
Barry shuddered, and hung his head. His life for Jesse’s, for Cisco’s, Caitlin’s, Iris’s, for the rest of this world…he could live with that. He wouldn’t for long, but he could live with that.  
  



	73. Like a White Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco, Vandal Savage, " ever wonder if the world might have been better off without you?"  
> Major character death, Depictions of violence, Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Mary Oliver's "The Egret": "That dark death like a white door"

Blue light flashed behind Cisco’s closed eyelids, a thin line of pain like flame slicing his arm a darkness exploded into _sight. Kendra, her wings battered and broken, the feathers dark with her own blood, lay on the ground before him, and even in the odd lighting of the vibe, Cisco could see the color of her eyes, no longer warm and soft but hard, furious, spilling over with tears. Savage stood above her, one more of his gleaming knives in hand, obsidian as old as he was.  
Kendra didn’t cry out as the blade pierced between her ribs, the light in her eyes fading out. Neither did anyone else, silent corpses._ Cisco shuddered as the vibe released him, the movement involuntary—he hadn’t had the strength to fight in what must have been days, felt like lifetimes. His eyes burned, but no tears dripped back into his matted hairline.  
            “There you are,” Vandal Savage’s voice oozed, and Cisco closed his eyes tight, not wanting to see what would come next. Before, every time he’d closed his eyes, he’d seen them all dying—Barry, his legs broken and mouth bleeding, Laurel with a gaping wound across her throat, Caitlin, Carter, Felicity, Jay, _Dante_. Now, it hardly mattered if his eyes were open or not, he still saw it, lived it, over and over and over. “You’d think after 4000 years it would be impossible to get _bored.”_

If it had been earlier, days ago, Cisco might have spat a retort, but his mouth was dry, his lungs felt like they were made of flame. Even breathing hurt. He’d always thought—hoped, maybe—he’d be ‘defiant to the end,’ go down taunting evil, like Barry had. Like Oliver hadn’t had the chance to. He wasn’t defiant, he wasn’t brave, he wasn’t a hero. Oliver, Dig, Barry, Kendra—they were all dead. Oh, God, they were all dead.  
            _Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo—_ He couldn’t think, words wouldn’t fit together in his brain, just images, memories, the sound of screaming, prayers he’d memorized as a child, his mother’s empty eyes, like glassy marbles, as she lay beside Joe on the concrete.

“I wonder, Boy, if you’ve ever wondered if the world might have been better off without you? Hmm? Surely by now it’s crossed your mind?”  
            Even if Cisco could have answered, drawn air from his paralyzed lungs through his ruined throat—cracking and dry—he wouldn’t. It would be too much like giving up, even though he has.  
            “I’ll tell you. I would have killed my priestess, my Chay-ara, and the feather-brained prince of hers, and gone on my way for another decade and a half, or two. Two deaths, simple, but no, you had to interfere. I offered you the chance at something less…messy, but you had to go playing hero, as if you were more than a sapling tree. The first in four thousand years to defy me and continue breathing.” Cisco sagged against the table—alter—he was bound too. He didn’t have to have his eyes open to know Savage had picked up another blade. “You brought this, all of this, on yourself.”

 _Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino—_ everything beyond his eyelids had been the color of flame but now it went blue again as the stone dagger tore into his shoulder. Any scream he might have made was lost. _Savage, standing over him, propping up his head, Savage who was supposed to be dead, nothing more than ashes scattered to the wind, Savage making sure he could see as the black blade turned darker with blood. Barry, broken, lightning skittering across his hands, though his eyes until it fizzled out. Oh, God, no, please no, no, no-  
_ He was back in his own body and not glad for it, as much as the vibes seemed to tear at the inside of his head they were better than this. Another phrase rattled free and he clung to it, as if that could drive away the truth of Savage’s words. _Hágase tu voluntad En la tierra como en el cielo—_ God, help them, please, _please, make this stop, make it all stop._ _Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día. Perdona nuestras ofensas--Perdona nuestras ofensas—Perdona…_

His eyes opened without permission, without order, and Cisco stared up at the empty eyes of Vandal Savage, ink-dark, empty and gleaming as an insect’s. The man smiled. “I couldn’t very well allow you to go unpunished for your stunt. And now there are no pesky heroes left to stand against me. Perhaps I’ll start here. I wonder how long this world can truly manage to hold out...” Cisco tried to spit at the taste of ash on his lips, on his tongue, coating his mouth, his vision going grey even as Savage finished, “perhaps you’ll see.”  
            _The vibe may have turned everything blue-grey but Cisco knew that the sky was red-orange with fire, the ground dark with rubble and ash and blood. He circled, staring at a starless sky. Smoke burned as he breathed—or was that just his brain telling him he should be feeling this, making sense of pain already inflicted? The world was in ruins. Everything was gone._

            “I suppose not,” Savage’s voice broke through the haze, competing with the desperate surge of memory, final strains of prayer. _Líbranos del mal._ “Well. This really has been…interesting. It’s been centuries since I’ve had quite this much _fun_.”  
            There was a slash like white flame, a cry torn from collapsing lungs, and Cisco’s vision filled with light, but not the harsh, staccato flashing of blue. White overtook everything, too bright. He thought, distant, dim, the last of his thoughts fading out at the edges, melting into that brightness, that he heard wingbeats.

 

~

now with a fixit ending [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5844103), by Greenglowsgold


	74. Chapter 74

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally, Eiling, " Don't freaking touch me"  
> Companion to minfics 4, 12, 17. (set concurrent with 4, 12, before 17)

Wally was never going to the library again. He’d offered to pick up a couple books for Caitlin and Cisco at STAR Labs while Barry was busy being a real hero, and no sooner than that he’d felt something slamming into the back of his head. Yeah, definitely never going back to the library. What kind of crappy security did they have,to just let a patron get jumped and--Wally blinked hazily, he was being carried and  _ not _ by anyone on Team Flash--kidnapped?  Maaaan, Iris was going to kill him.

 

Though if he didn’t get away and get away fast, she might not get the shot. From what he could make out--not a lot, his vision was blurry--the brute carrying him none-too-gently was in uniform, and that meant trouble. Barry’d warned him, back after he’d half blown himself up and gained superspeed as a result, that he--they--had enemies, and members of the army were in that list. Wally’d brushed it off. Black kid with a mom who hadn’t always been clean but did her best, he knew what trouble cops and government officials could bring. Or he thought he had. Wally wished now he’d listened closer to what Barry and the others had said about their pals in the army. Well, he’d have pretty much one shot. Carefully, he peeped through his lashes, trying to see where he was, hoping that his escort guard hadn’t figured out he was awake.  _ White hallway, that’s fantastic, shit, bad sign.  _ Wally had read enough borrowed comics as a kid to piece together that superhero + military + kidnapping + hallway= Bad News.

 

Someone shouted, no words just a horribly guttural cry of pain and Wally took the chance, twisting sharply, kicking and jabbing with wiry elbows. He hit the floor and took off at a dead run, lightning skittering off him. He made it all of four seconds and halfway around the third corner when he slammed into something solid. Falling back he landed hard, writhing against the hands that grabbed at him and hauled him upright. Someone--he didn’t see who-- struck him hard across the side of his head, sure to leave a nasty bruise even with a healing factor. It was enough to daze him, his already blurry vision filling with spots like when he hadn’t eaten enough.

 

Someone was pinning him to a chair, and Wally snapped out of the haze, fighting desperately now. He knew it was hopeless, out-numbered on their own turf, but damn if he wasn’t going to try. He’d never been as fast as Barry, though, and he was dizzy and there were too many--at least five uniformed and armed men strapping his hands down with thin wire, more doing the same to his ankles. It didn’t take them long either, and Wally surged against the bindings, fighting with everything he had. Lightning flashed in his eyes, if these fools thought string could hold him--

 

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you, son,” an unfamiliar voice, thick with some awful mix of pride and condescension. His uniform was fancier, Wally noticed, probably he was the one in charge. Wally vibrated for half a heartbeat, then stopped with a cry. Pain shot through his wrists and ankles, like he’d cut them. The man smirked, walking closer, the door closing with a click behind him. “It’s a nifty thing. No more high tech than piano wire, easy to manufacture. Strong enough it won’t just snap. Sharp enough to cut if you try, so let’s skip the fruitless escape attempts, Wallace.”

 

Wally flinched, cursing inwardly. His mom would have washed his mouth out, but in the moment that didn’t matter. His chest heaved as he tried to get his fear--god he was terrified--under control. It didn’t work particularly well. 

“Now that we’ve settled that,” the man said. “Let’s get on to the more ...pressing matters. How exactly did you get your speed?”

Wally shook his head. This one, he knew without Barry’s voice in his ears.  _ If anyone can find out how to recreate this, if anyone else, especially our enemies, figures this out, we’re dead. I tell, this guy’ll kill me as soon as he knows.  _

The creepy-military-dude-/possibly-satan-himself reached out, snake quick, and grabbed Wally’s chin; Wally bucked his head, trying to pull free. 

“Don’t freaking touch me. I’m not telling you shit.”

A harsh laugh met his ears. “Stubborn. We’ll see how long that lasts. There’s more than one way to learn about your powers, brat.”

Wally spat, maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but it was all he could do before his vision went white-orange with pain, a cattleprod jammed into his ribs. He held the scream in for all of three seconds. 

Everything after was a blur of the man--General somebody-- demanding answers that Wally wouldn’t give, couldn’t give, pain, cold, thirst. He was dead anyway, he knew that, if no one came for him. He had to hold out long enough. They’d know he was missing, right? Barry, and his dad and sister, the others at STAR, they’d care, right? 

 

It had to have been hours--maybe days? When someone returned, having left him alone in the cold, his eyes swollen shut from being hit, the freezing temperature numbing him and slowing his healing. “Tell me what I want to know, and this ends, boy.”  Wally trembled, but clamped his mouth shut tighter. “Tell me or that pretty sister of yours gets a reservation in the next cell.”

Wally would have cried, but he didn’t have the strength to, or the water. What kind of crappy superhero was he, getting caught, putting his family in danger? No wonder he was still here, but--Barry’d keep Iris safe, wouldn’t he? Could he risk that? What if this got everyone caught. He tried to tug again at the restraints, but he was too weak.  _ Pathetic. _

“Now, I’ll ask you one last --” The sentence hung in the air, unfinished, as someone he couldn’t make out as more than a red blurry spot called his name.


	75. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (getting back to the backlog, I have a few of these from last month I never posted)  
> Cisco and Laurel, "I thought I lost you"

Ever since getting the goggles, and the training with Barry (welcome) and Harry (less welcome) Cisco’s vibes had become, for the most part, less painful and much more voluntary. They rarely happened at all unless he was trying to trigger something, which he did on occasion. It was probably a gross breach of Jesse’s privacy, hence why he always lied and said he couldn’t make out more than that she was alive and well, and did his best to forget other details.

Still, sometimes he got the vibes out of nowhere, like the time he’d been getting coffee and had realized/ seen Clarissa Stein fall on her front steps, a twisted ankle, or the time his vision had gone blue and he’d seen Dante arguing with one of the not-so-friendly parking duty cops about an unfair ticket. Usually nothing major, just—people he was close to, in one way or another. They didn’t give him bad headaches much, anymore.

Except this one, over a late lunch. He dropped his glass as the world shifted cerulean, and he could see— _Team Arrow? But not Barry, not Caitlin or any of his own team, and they looked to be at Iron Heights, but there was no sign of Mardon, or James Jesse, or—_

_He knew the face that stared at Laurel, the white haired man. He’d seen him before, in the vibes he’d gotten of the past, of Ray held hostage. Cisco lunged forward, knowing it was useless, knowing it was pointless, he was just a visitor in vision, but it felt so real, too real, as Damien Darhk smirked._

_“I told him what I would do if he betrayed me. I want you to give your father a message from me. I want you to tell him—“ he stabbed down with an Arrow, and Laurel fell with a cry that Cisco echoed even as the world snapped back into full color_. He dropped to his knees, heaving, the pain in his temple pulsing, the worst after-vibe headache yet.

It had to be the future, it could have been the past, couldn’t be too late. He jabbed the button on his phone that would summon Barry, then hit speed dial.

“This is Laurel Lance, how can I—“ her voice was tinny on the other end of the line, and Cisco loosed a sigh of relief.

“Who is this?” she demanded, on edge. “If this is—“

“Laurel.” Cisco gathered his thoughts as Barry zipped in, a frantic burst of lightning. “Laurel, Gracias a Dios, I thought I—lost you.”

“Cisco? What’s wrong, you sound—look, now’s not the best time, things are going crazy here, but what’s wrong?”

“Look, I—I’ll explain, just get the rest of your team to, um—the Arrowcave, or something. JUST you and Dig and Oliver and Thea and Felicity, if—things are ok with her, but—that’s it. I’m on my way, there’s something—I saw something, and you need to hear this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because screw canon


	76. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please come and get me, Cisco and Caitlin, set after Zoom took Caitlin late season 2

The cuff was tight around her wrist, pinching pale skin even whiter. Caitlin had seen people in cuffs, of course. She’d helped Iris with Everyman, after all, and though she hadn’t worked closely with Joe or Eddie or Patty, well. You couldn’t work with a vigilante and cops both and not see handcuffs in use.

She hadn’t realized how much they hurt, though, even without tugging and straining and wishing she had the strength to break the binding with nothing more than desperation. She’d felt helpless so often—hard not to, as a doctor, a bystander in a world rapidly approaching comic-book realms of impossibility, but this was worse than the ropes that had held her to a chair in Snart’s warehouse, somehow. She hunched up on the lumpy cot, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as close as she could. She shivered through her thin clothing, as much from the chill as from fear.

Barry had no speed. She hadn’t seen anything after Zoom—she would never call him Jay again, the name like ash on her tongue—had carried her here, left her. The only hope she had that they were even still alive, that he hadn’t gone back to kill them all, even Wally, who never should have been dragged into this mess, was that he had not come back to taunt her. He seemed like the kind of person to do that, gloat and preen and rub her face in the knowledge that he had tricked them all, and that she was alone. No, they had to be alive. After so much else, they had to be alive.  And if they were alive, everything would be ok, somehow. Caitlin couldn’t close her eyes, watching the door for and sense of movement, blue lightning or no. it wavered as her sight grew blurry. _He had Jesse for half a year. How long will it take for—_

“Please come get me,” she whispered into her knees, hardly a breath.  She wasn’t sure who she spoke too, alone in this dark room, trapped. It may not even have been the first of Zoom’s hideouts, there was no way to know if the others would ever find this place—and Barry had no speed—but still, she whispered it, once more, and then released the hand that locked around her legs.  Help would come, or it wouldn’t, and that was that. She’d have to do something.

~~ *** ~~

Cisco sat on the ledge at the entrance to the pipeline, staring at his hands. Zoom had won. Barry was powerless. Firestorm had left months ago, dropped off the map, Kendra hadn’t responded to the call for help he’d sent to her necklace. He didn’t know what team Arrow was doing, but Laurel was –gone, and Ray had vanished, and team flash was on its own. Hah. Team Flash. What was left? A shattered team, one member left empty, one stolen away, and him. All his powers had done was make everything worse, and still he could not control them.

Slowly, he reached into his pocket. He had to know what had happened to Caitlin, even if—the hoping is what hurt, hoping she was alive, she was safe, but knowing for certain—if she wasn’t… he clenched his fist around the small bit of metal that had lain forgotten in Dr. Wells’ drawer for a year and change, and tried to draw that blinding blue light out from wherever it lurked.

_He knew it was her, crouched on a mattress, a chain around one wrist, and he remembered the way Wally had rubbed at a mark around his own wrist, the way Jesse had been shackled. Her hair was windswept, tangling and loose, and she had tucked in on herself like a mouse curling into a ball, a bird folding her wings over her head. Caitlin, he said, or tried to say. No one had ever heard him in the vibes, not really. Zoom, but Zoom was beyond human. She didn’t react to it, anyway, and he fought against the familiar pounding in his head to stay in the vibe._

_“Please, come get me,” she whispered, as if she knew he was there, watching, listening. Cisco knew he could open portals, what if—he had to try, but the blue remained as it was, and he could not feel his hands, his body numbing._

_“Caitlin,” he tried again, knowing he was losing the battle, if he didn’t stop now, he’d drop like a sack of grain or worse, and with no one to stop the seizures. “Caitlin, hang on.”_

_“Come get me,” she said again, and he couldn’t tell if the vibe was just repeating itself, some awful feedback loop or if she had really said it again until she shifted position and he could see her more clearly. Defiant, terrified, determined, alone. Cisco could feel his nose start to bleed, but he couldn’t let go, couldn’t leave her here, even if he would only be a silent presence, able only to watch whatever happened, useless. He had to find a way through, there had to be something--_

_“We’re coming, I’ll find a way, Cait.”_

_She looked up, and the blue reflected in her eyes._


	77. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Caitlin: shit, are you bleeding.   
> set circa 3x02.

Caitlin dropped the vial she’d taken out of the centrifuge with a quiet yelp, hopping back in her surprise. She reached for the small dustpan that was still leaning against the table quickly, hoping for once that no one was there, and no one would notice. She was wrong. Cisco stuck his head into the medbay.

“Caitlin? I thought you went home?”

“No, I…had something to do, sorry, you can go back to your project.” She smiled a little. Cisco frowned.

“I thought you were they one saying we should all be a, a team again. Wait, shit, are you bleeding?” 

“No,” Caitlin looked down. She’d managed to prick herself on a sliver that melted against her skin. A droplet of blood, warm and bright, beaded up on her finger. “It’s nothing, really.”

“That’s what I always say, but you insist it’s a big deal.”

“I poked myself with a glass shard, I didn’t almost burn off my fingers with a weld—“

“That was one time,” Cisco cut her off, grabbing a box from the nearest cupboard. “Here, look, I even got you some new bandaids.”

“If these ones have Elsa on them,” Caitlin warned.

“Don’t be silly.” Cisco handed her the box of Incredibles bandaids. She drew out one with Frozone on it, made a face, and took a different one instead. “I have better sense than to get Frozen bandaids more than once.  Though, I was serious, Halloween is coming up…”

“No, Cisco,” but she laughed a little. “I still…I can’t tell anyone yet. I can’t be like her, and if I say anything…”

“You’re not Killer Frost,” Cisco said, firmly. “You’re not her. You’re still our Caitlin, even if it’s been months since we were, you know. A team. “

“A family,” Caitlin agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> All prompts can be found on my tumblr at Hedgiwithapen.tumblr.com/tagged/angst-prompt-minifics
> 
> feel free to send in a prompt of you own from this list: http://hedgiwithapen.tumblr.com/post/132521088112/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-line-of-dialogue-and-ill
> 
> Comment if you liked...or if I broke your heart...or if you feel like making my day better. :)


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